Ray in Ardougne (Delarn Book 2)
by WolfOfRS
Summary: Ray had found himself alienated from the east and so he fled to the western lands and ended up in Ardougne. He expected it to be like Varrock, the city he grew up in, but after finding himself under the guidance of a new mistress he begins to realize that all is drastically different here. He struggles with his growing hatred of humanity and his duality in masculinity.
1. Back to the Start

_**This is the second part of Delarn's story—known as Decari in RP—and it would be highly recommended that "Fragments of Delarn" be read first before reading this section.  
Book 1: s/12118375/1/Fragments-of-Delarn**_

Ray cursed and groaned as he settled against the fence just outside Ardougne, holding his arm and sucking in a few hasty breaths in a vain attempt to hold back the tears. He normally kept his sleeve down as he could practically see the pockmarks of where the needles had pricked him again and again as a child, but now he had his sleeve up so he could see the swollen, nasty black wound on his shoulder from where the arrow had gone in. It practically bubbled and festered, and though he was making more of it than it was, it was undeniably infected and it was undeniably toxic.

He whimpered and moaned in terror as he squeezed his eyes closed tightly, the pain excruciating, though perhaps it was the thinking about it that made it hurt more than the actual thing. It felt rather numb, factually.

He remembered what the seers had told him as he came upon the crossroads and couldn't decide whether to head further west or north. He had chosen west. His father had always promised something to the west if only he could find it, though he knew not what that meant for him. What the seer had said…it was so hard to focus. The seer had promised him great suffering and strife, hatred equal to his hatred, and he could not deny the spite that spread up from his toes at her words, wondering how anyone could not be filled with hate. She had lessened the wound, had removed the arrow, but the festering was there. She chased him away with holy water, hissing and cursing at him until he left her sight.

He jumped in horror as he felt a hand gently touch his other shoulder, brought back to the present, and looked up into the blue-grey eyes of a woman that studied him with wry intensity. He tried to work up the effort to show his teeth at her, but his face only grew pale and clammy as he tried to stir away from her, before throwing up, the mess spilling over onto her shoes. Her lips thinned and she nodded to the man standing behind her, the man Ray hadn't noticed before then, and he stepped forward, cracking his knuckles before drawing a slender wand.

He was wearing blue robes, though the longer Ray stared in horror at him the more he was convinced that these robes were red and it made him feel nauseous as the man pressed his wand against Ray's forehead. He suddenly realized what was happening, that something significant was happening, and he twitched and tried to throw his numbed hand at him, but his shoulder wouldn't move without agony ensuing.  
"Chaos find your breast and seek to bury the scorn of a heavy childhood in your head," Ray spat and the man jeered at him, his wand moving from his head to his heart and then to the festering wound at his shoulder. He ground the wand against it, raising a new wave of nausea.

"Be gentle with him," the woman purred, her hand moving to caress Ray's face, and he couldn't help but relax. He couldn't remember the last time someone had touched him so gently. "He's scared as it is. I don't see why you have to be mean to him."

The man glanced over at her with a mixture of amusement and bewilderment before she told him, "He has lovely red hair, don't you think?"  
Ray looked at her again, growing angry the moment he felt painful fire enter his shoulder, but the next moment was the strongest euphoria that he had ever felt, spreading from the wound in his arm to the rest of his body. His eyes drooped and he felt a bit of wonder as he realized that her hair was sort of red a well, though more like curls of copper rather than true red. He gave her a silly grin as she ran her hand through his hair.

"I think he'll do," she told the man. "Velbert, you'll be able to move him, won't you?"

"I don't know," he answered, tapping his foot a few times. "He has a bit of strange magic around him. I don't believe I've seen it before."

"What kind of magic?" She replied, intrigued, and he sat up a bit, curious about what they were talking about. She glanced at him and then back at her wizard. "Look, why don't we discuss this privately."  
"Privately, my lady?" He answered, looking around casually. "I imagine if there was someone else to approach a wretch like this they would have done it by now, and anyone else that could have tracked this poor bastard here…well I would have felt them by now."  
"I'm on a main road. What are you talking about?" Ray groaned painfully.

"Oh, private as in without him," Volbert answered, raising his wand again.

Ray snarled nervously, still unsure of whether he liked it or not, and the woman laughed. "We'll have to look into that. That's got to have an interesting story behind it."

"I'm sure it does, Lady Corosia," he replied, his voice unreadable. He shrugged, and Ray grew silent as he tried to puzzle through this before a blast of magic hit him between the eyes and he collapsed. He watched as Volbert's wand circled again and again, and a sort of sticky rope enclosed him before he blacked out.


	2. Comfort

Ray couldn't recall the last time he awoke more well rested, swathed in warm blankets of wool and silk. Even after he first awoke he did not stir for quite some time, indulging in the comfort. When he finally did attempt to get up, drawn by the scent of warm food, he braced himself. He had expected the same pain he had suffered from for the last—days? Weeks?—but he found that any signs of pain or infection were completely gone. He couldn't remember a time when he was completely without some sort of pain and so he twisted and flexed, trying to catch even a hint of it, of something that perhaps he simply had grown accustomed to, but not even that was there.

Still, the smell of food beckoned, the reason he had left his comfortable nest to begin with, and so he followed his nose. The moment he found what he was looking for, in the form of a feast in the luxuriant dining hall of the mansion he now found himself deposited in; he took a nervous pause. It was all set up quite elegantly, everything white and pristine, the table itself a rich mahogany and the chandelier above a glass masterpiece. The dishes in which the food was on themselves seemed to be delicate and lovely, and this alone could have been enough to deter him.

Still, the food was rich, richer than he had ever known. His mouth watered at the scent of eggy cakes and custards, thick slabs of beef, different kinds of pies, egg prepared in every manner he could have imagined possible and more, and so many different juices that he felt a bit heady considering them, and the same went for the different kinds of fruits, many of which he didn't recognize.

And so when Rosana Corivan walked in she was surprised to find him still standing there, having not touched anything, just standing there staring at it with great concentration. He seemed to be so focused that he didn't seem to notice that she entered, and that's why she felt startled when he looked up at her inquisitively. The look of fear didn't make sense to her, on the face of a man that so naturally appeared inhuman and powerful in his stance and build.

"Is what we set out for you not satisfactory?" She tutted, and there was a level of satisfaction in seeing his face shift from uncertainty to incredulity and guilt. She found that she enjoyed that expression played on his face particularly.  
"No, of course not," he answered awkwardly, moving from foot to foot. "I just…didn't think it was for me. Why is it for me?"

"Isn't it courteous to feed guests after bringing them into your home?" She replied, her tone honey sweet.

"I'm a guest? I can't even remember how I got here, really," he answered, his head dipping to the side, his head aching dully for a moment as he tried to figure that part out.  
"What else would you be?" She responded, her lips curling upward, "though I suppose you could be more than that."  
"More than that?"  
"I have a position I need filled, and you seem to be the right sort for it," she responded, studying him, "And you fit the family image." He stiffened as she drew closer. One of the things he had learned was that he shouldn't let anyone so close to him without a clear reason, but he tried to himself that she wasn't dangerous. She shouldn't have been. Still, her eyes held him there, and he didn't move even as she took a bit of his hair to show him the red.

"It is a bit long," she continued. "Perhaps I could take you to get it cut-  
"No," he snarled, pulling back as if a spell had been broken, and she only smiled wider as if something important had been confirmed for her in that moment.

"Now, now," she purred. "It was only an offer. I couldn't be sure if it was your intention to have it so long or not when we found you the way we did."

"You—"  
"Yes," she continued, "we saved your life, I would say. With that nasty wound in your shoulder you would have surely have died if left alone for too much longer. At the very least you would have lost that arm if you happened to be lucky enough to figure it out. If not, well it would have been quite a painful way to die, and in a place where no one knows you. I'm sure your family wouldn't have ever have known what happened to you."

"I don't have family," he responded nearly automatically, shivering as he rolled that shoulder a few times as if to confirm that it really was whole. "Or friends. It wouldn't have mattered if I had died here or there."

Her eyes seemed to flicker with something that Ray found to be a bit unnerving, but almost alluring, as she continued, "So you have nowhere else to be, and no one else that will be missing you. Why don't I give you a place? Are you familiar with the nobles of Ardougne? My particular house is Corivan. Ever considered a job as a personal guard for a high-ranking house?"

"I…don't really know anything about Ardougne. I wasn't really sure where I was to begin with," he answered sheepishly. "I mean I've heard of it from the traders in Port Sarim but—"  
"Nothing to fret about," she soothed. "Think about it. It would be a good opportunity for someone such as yourself, and in the meantime you can heal and rest from that nasty wound of yours. You really must tell me how you got it."

"Someone off the wall of Falador shot me," he responded simply.  
Her eyes glinted, this time with wonder, and her tone was like smooth honey as she responded, "My, my, you really must be impressive if you could make it so far as that without succumbing. You must be quite strong and quite lucky."

"I suppose I am," he responded airily, finding some strange pleasure from the way she seemed to admire him.

"Someone like you needs to eat to keep up his strength," she continued. "Eat what you may. Enjoy yourself. Indulge. You've earned it, and after we'll discuss your new position if you'll take it."

He looked at her, and then the food, and finally nodded, slowly gathering a plate for himself and settling at the table. He couldn't help but admire the craftsmanship of the plate even as she filled it with food.

Lady Corivan found watching him eat to be fascinating, though she was careful not to watch him directly, acting as if she were eating as well and wasn't interested in him at all as she noted that each time he registered that he was being watched he paused stiffly until she looked elsewhere. She found it particularly interesting as some of these times were subtler than others.  
In any case, when she did catch him eating, she was delighted with how neat, careful and tidy he was when he ate, and it didn't seem to be an attempt to impress her either. He admittedly didn't do it with the finesse of a noble trained from birth, but at the very least there was an elegance to him.

He spoke suddenly, and she had to admit she had been caught off guard. She nearly thought he was going to admonish her for watching him the way she was, but he simply said, "I think I wouldn't mind a job as a guard for you. This is all very nice, but really I just want somewhere I've chosen to be to call my own, and if you want me—well all the better."  
Her lips curled into a wicked smile, her voice ever like honey as she responded, "A place to call your own by your choice? Quite a novel idea."

"Novel?"  
"I would love to have you," she continued. "I am called Lady Corivan, though sometimes Mage Telego will refer to me as Corosia. Either is acceptable for you."

"I am Ray, merely," he answered, nodding politely.

"Ray, guard of house Corivan, is how you'll introduce yourself from now on," she told him with a warm smile, her delight only growing as she noticed him grin to himself.


	3. Revealed

Ray had expected that as soon as he had agreed to take the job that she would put him through some sort of training, explaining how his new position worked and suiting him up accordingly. He had expected some sort of actual work to take place soon after, but rather than that she had simply left him to his own devices.  
"I want you to take the time to gather your strength back up. Wander the grounds. Get your bearing of the place," she had insisted. "Go wherever you want and eat as you please. I want you to be as comfortable as possible if you're going to be working for me and living here. It wouldn't do to have a guard that isn't aware of his surroundings, nor comfortable wandering them."  
He thought this made sense, but after a week of being allowed to roam about without any formal training or any indication that she intended to actually keep him as a guard he was starting to feel uncertain and restless, though he was definitely starting to get a handle on where everything was, such as his bedroom, the kitchen, a library, a general sitting area, a formal sitting area, the entrance, the garden. All sorts of different places that he found he liked to spend time in equally, though he tried not to linger near where other servants were.

The servants were strange here, he thought. They didn't look at him and seemed to ignore him or shuffle away from wherever he was spending his time, and he always felt watched. The only one that seemed to acknowledge him was the head chef, and that was as a hindrance.

"Begone from here, you wandering vagabond," the blond-haired man growled at him. "You're scaring my staff as it is and it's hard to get them to get their work done properly to begin with." The agitated chef brandished a pan and Ray couldn't help but scamper from the kitchen, though he thought he might have heard a good-natured chuckle on his way out.  
A lot of times he found he couldn't find Lady Corivan herself, or her wizard, though after their first meeting he didn't think he wanted to run into Telago again. He decided that it was likely something common, such as her leaving the grounds for whatever reason nobles do, or perhaps she just didn't commonly leave her room or mingle with the servants. He had found that as well—her room—but it gave off such an unwelcoming aura that he had quickly moved past it with no second thoughts.

His days were more or less the same. He slowly gained a better understanding of where everything was located and he ate in the mornings and afternoons, returning to the room he had woken up in to sleep and to wake to do it all over again. At times, he wasn't even sure if this place was real or simply a fever dream in which the infection in his shoulder was finishing its job, and he was just slowly coming closer and closer to death in the comfort of unconsciousness.

Though after a week or so had passed since he had arrived here he heard a familiar voice, and recognized it as the bard, Argyros as he introduced himself to Ray.  
"I hope he's settling in well," the man laughed. "Did I not tell you I would deliver? A full-blooded Wolfter, and a rather easy to control one at that. He does have a history of Zamorakian meddling, though I would think a lady such as yourself would find that particularly attractive."  
As Ray took the time to process this, he heard Lady Corivan respond, "Yes, attractive indeed. I imagine you're taking all the credit for assuring that this creature was in the right place at the right time also."  
"Of course. I was very careful about it too," he responded innocently. "There was a bit of a hitch, but all in all the suggestions worked like a dream. It's amazing what a person will do with the right things sung in their ear while they're sleeping."  
"And how do you suppose he'll react when he finds out he was tricked?" Volbert asked casually, pointing at where Ray stood in the doorway, his eyebrows raised and his fists clenched at his side. Upon realizing that all attention was on him he opened his mouth to protest, to manage anything in way of expressing what he thought of this, but no sound came out.

"It's good to see you again," Argyros laughed before turning to Lady Corivan. "How did he introduce himself? I want to know what he's calling himself nowadays."  
Ray growled and hissed, "You dirty rat. I'll skin you alive if it's the last thing I do." He rushed toward him, but was stopped dead in his tracks, his head spinning for a moment. When he regained use of his senses he found himself unable to move, Volbert's wand pointed at him though the man himself looked bored and uninvolved.  
He stiffened as Lady Corivan walked over to him, her hips swaying. "Now what's gotten you so stirred up, Ray? Is something wrong?"  
He glared at her accusingly, finding that he couldn't so much as speak, and so she continued for him, "Ray, darling, I know this looks particularly nasty of me, but please understand that I had your best intentions in mind. This country isn't easy for your kind and I wanted to be sure that if I got a new guard it wasn't merely someone capable, but someone that I could help along the way. Arvour told me all about you and your struggles. I just want to help you."  
He felt undeniably angry, but with each word she spoke—more her tone than anything else in this moment—he felt soothed. He felt a sense of sympathy for her and her need to help him so much so that he couldn't recall quite why he was so angry to begin with. The only thing that really made him upset was that knowing smile that Arvour wore, as if he knew more that Ray did about what was happening here, and yet the moment she started stroking his face he no longer felt worried or cared. Arvour was just a creepy man and his grin likely held no importance.

As if sensing that the spell would soon be lifted and Ray would have control over his body again, Arvour stood and bowed abruptly. "I'm always glad to give a performance for a woman of your caliber, but I must be off." And with that he was gone in a puff of smoke, though it didn't have a smell to it and it dissipated as quickly as it took him to disappear himself.  
"Sit down with me," Lady Corivan told him the moment she was aware that he could move again, breaking his intense stare at where Arvour had been a moment before, leading him to the plush sofa she had been sitting on to talk to her visitor. He almost didn't want to sit, but her grip was firm and certain as if she was used to guiding dangerous animals, and did it for a living. "Show me what you look like as a wolf," she whispered in his ear.  
He pulled back and stared at her as if she had suddenly grown a second head, despite feeling strangely fine with this request, but surprised she had asked it so suddenly. "What?" He coughed out, as if his mouth had been filled with chalk dust.  
"I already know what you are. There's no harm in it," she insisted. "Just let me see for myself. It would be best if I and Telego—who you will likely be working closely with—knows what you look like as a wolf beforehand so there aren't any nasty surprising and you aren't unduly injured."

He stared at her nervously, finding this to be something very private about himself. There were very few who had seen him in his wolf form, and fewer still that were still alive that he had trusted. Even so, with the way she was running her hands through his hair, keeping eye contact with him as if they had been friends for all their lives and knew each other well, he couldn't help but consider it silly not to be willing to show her now that she was asking him plainly.  
He shifted and she smiled widely. "Quite impressive," she murmured, brushing her hands through his thick fur. "I knew your hair was red, but I never really expected you would be red like this as well as a wolf." She held him in her arms and pet him with a wide smile in her face, growing more amused as he settled in her lap. Telago watched and he caught a flicker of something in the other man's eye. Jealousy? Disdain? Ray found that he didn't really care, finding this to be one of the rare moments in which he actually enjoyed himself like this.

She smiled in return, knowing that this was the first step to assuring control over him.


	4. Proof

Ray held his breath, but his face was quickly turning purple. He whimpered, his eyes searching desperately for help from Telago, but as always the man gave no sympathy in return. He could feel himself losing consciousness rapidly and it wouldn't be long before-  
"Stop slouching and stop holding your breath," the young man that worked at measuring Ray grumbled, having half a mind to stick him with one of the needles he held between his fingers. "I can't get an accurate measurement of you if you keep on like this and I won't have you crying to me if it comes out too tight."  
"Sorry," Ray muttered sheepishly, letting out his breath for the third time at least. The garb he was fitting him in was a dark red, and to the side was a silky black cloak that fit over it and hid the color like a lamp over the sun. It even had a hood that could easily contain his hair.  
"You _should_ be sorry," the man, Mr. Bityn, hissed. "You're going to be attending a very illustrious event and if there's even a single seam out of place it's going to be my head, not yours."  
"I'm sure Ms. Corivan will understand if I tell her," Ray answered with a crooked smile. "She seems to like me quite a bit."

Mr. Bityn's eyebrows raised incredulously, and he opened his mouth, but Telago intervened, holding something out to Ray. "I nearly forgot. Once you got fitted Lady Corosia wanted you to have this. It's very important to her that you're wearing it during the event."

It was a golden circuit of sorts, and though Ray couldn't figure out where the clasps were, Telago seemed to have no problem putting it on for him. He nodded thoughtfully and added thoughtfully as Ray tried to look at it—finding it rather tight, "I daresay it's rather fitting on you. I think I understand her taste in it after all."  
"I'll get used to it," Ray murmured as Mr. Bitlyn continued to study him gravely.  
"Well, I think we're done here. Go along then," he sighed, though he took another quick look on the seal that graced Ray's chest. It looked both like an exotic sun symbol and a strange cat that was akin to a lion but not quite. It was there in dull grey compared to the cloak. He felt rather fancy and big in the new clothes—the uniform, he thought—and so he was practically showing off as he stepped lithely off the platform.

He didn't feel nearly as big or bold with Telago leading him by the hand down the street like a small child. He glanced at him, wondering why he was acting like he might get lost, or kidnapped, or run away at the slightest chance. It felt ridiculous, really.

They weren't quite at the gathering place when Lady Corivan met them. She was dressed elegantly in a long, draping satin. He found himself studying the ground, in fact, upon seeing her, and she smirked at him knowing that he couldn't see it until she reached out to lift his chin, telling him, "You're a guard of the Corivan family, Ray, remember? It's not befitting of you to be acting anything but confident standing beside your mistress."

He studied her curiously before nodding, adding almost as an afterthought, trying not to stutter, "Yes, ma'am—my lady."

She laughed and now that he was looking up at her he realized she was holding a sort of package and she told him teasingly, "Sharp eyes, I have a gift for you." She then unwrapped it methodically and placed it in his hand by its hilt, carefully folding his fingers around it. It was a dragon scimitar, and he couldn't help but stare at it in wonder.  
"I don't understand…why would I need something so ornate here?" He asked her nervously.  
"Ornate? Oh honey, don't you know? This is authentic and it wasn't cheap or easy to get. I hope you take good care of it," Lady Corivan responded, wrapping a hand around his arm as she moved to position herself at his side. Telago grumbled inaudibly.  
"I can't carry something like this," Ray responded dumbly. "I lose and break weapons so easily. This should be put in the hands of someone more responsible."  
"I know no better hands than yours," she answered, "And you better not lose or break this. This is a symbol of your loyalty to the family, of your devotion. It's a sign of my love for you and your work." She smiled coyly, and he started to take into account the real value of the sword he was holding. He carefully placed it in the empty sheathe on his belt as they entered the manor that held the gathering they were heading for.

There were so many people, all of different shades, sizes and accents, and they all seemed to follow their movement with a jeering sort of sport. He wanted to cower behind her, or run back out, but he knew that wasn't befitting of a guard of Corivan, and so he held his ground as Corivan led her through the gathered people toward a set of stairs going downward. He found it was surprisingly easy to navigate the crowd that he thought it would be, and considered that he owed her for being there to lead him and prove that it was possible to begin with.

They were early getting to the bottom chamber however and so it was at least an hour before they began to stream in, though at least they had found a comfortable place to stand so that Ray didn't feel overly held in and thus wasn't as scared about being in such a huge crowd of people. The sound of metal ringing and quiet voices echoing throughout the hollow chamber was almost painful to his ears, but he didn't complain. He was glad to be there with her on official business.

Things suddenly quieted down and in the middle, ground lower than that which they stood upon, a man was dragged to the center by a series of chains around his limbs. They looked old and rusted, and they cut into his wrists with each tug so that he had to move with them if he didn't want to be cut further. On his eyes was a thick swath of white cloth that Ray could barely make out himself. It was endearing to him, he thought, to see this man that also couldn't see, but for a very straightforward reason.

"Please stop. You don't understand. I wasn't the one that took the money from the vault. It wasn't me," the man sobbed, his voice rattling and wet as if someone had already done him the favor of piercing a lung. It sounded like a miracle that he could speak at all. "Please don't do this to me. I am loyal. I am still loyal. I will help find them. I will help find them and prove myself—"

His voice was cut off by a sharp thump and the rest of his words came as a wet wheeze. He tried to reach his throat where an arrow was placed, but by now his arms were firmly held to his sides and no matter what he did he found himself unable to get to it, leaving him simply floundering uselessly. The nobles weren't altogether cruel, and did their very best to end his misery in whatever way they could, and that meant throwing sharp stones and glass, some of them screaming and whooping, especially when one of these things hit him and gave him a particularly nasty gash or made him grunt audibly over the choking noise he made.

Ray felt a sense of horror building as the thick scent of blood and fear filled his nose, mixed with the savage satisfaction from this display. Corivan kept a hand on his shoulder, and it was calming in a sense, but when he looked back at her all he could make out was her morbid grin as she watched. Telago seemed to take particular interest in a long, thin cylinder of his that could have been a magical invention though Ray had a feeling was more of a smoking device.  
The man's panicked thrashing rose as she chains starting to pull him apart and seem to tug at him like two feral dogs trying to split a piece of particularly tough meat amongst themselves. Ray supplied the growling as he felt his stomach churn in horror. He was looking at his shoes again by the time the grisly scene was over. If he didn't know better he might have thought he had passed out on his feet for a bit as he was informed the next moment by a noble standing on a platform above the rest of them in flowing purple garb. "And now that this grisly business is taken care of, we can reach the real event."  
"You don't want to get too hot," Corivan explained as she removed his black cloak from him.

The announcer continued, "Two high-ranking houses have recently recruited new guards amongst their ranks. As is tradition I suggest we test them out a bit. On this side we have Leteq the Severed of house Dourval."

At his word a man with a thick, barrel chest jumped into the ring with dark rings around his green eyes. He looked particularly tall and particularly mean. He leaned over to get a better looked even as the man called, "And on this side is Ray the Red, of house Corivan." He didn't register that it was his name until he heard 'Corivan' and by then people were already seizing him, already trying to throw him over the side. He looked back to his Lady Corivan for help, but she and the wizard had seemed to have disappeared from plain sight, and it wasn't long before he was tossed over the edge by the eager crowd, falling heavily on his side though he was still able to pull himself—half-stunned—to his knees for a start.

"Shall we see which house has the highest mettle?" The announcer laughed even as Leteq thumped ever closer to Ray. He wasn't able to make it out before, but this man was missing a hand. That would have made this simpler, except that hand was expertly replaced with a mithril hammer. A hammer that was coming crashing down at his head even as the announcer spoke.

Ray panicked and pulled the scimitar, putting it in the hammer's way. It bounced off and the man glared, but the first thing that Ray thought as he felt the jarring waves racing up his arm was that the blade was in danger of breaking. The next strike that the man made hit solidly on his arm as he shifted the blade a bit so it wouldn't take the brunt of the strike and Ray knew immediately what a mistake he had made.  
He had landed on that arm when he was thrown down and it had been stinging, but now he was certain it was nothing but powder as it limply to his side, Ray's teeth clenched in agony though he did manage to switch the sword to the other hand. His less dominant right which didn't sound right at all.  
People were screaming for Leteq to finish him, and the man smirked darkly as he lifted the hammer one last time to give them what they wanted, aligning it with Ray's fragile head, and Lady Corivan was nowhere to be seen.


	5. Torn Apart

Ray could have sworn the blade he had been given was a paintbrush and not a sword at all. He could have sworn that he had forgotten everything but what the color red looked like for a moment. There was a startling moment in which he didn't even realize that he had been moving, thoughtlessly acting, as the blade slid across the man's chest. Ray didn't even really realize that he was screaming in fury as his other arm did the impossible and slid the blade viciously through his opponent's flesh. The man stumbled back, and it was now fear that was the dominant feature on his face, and not his straight nose or unruly black eyebrows that graced his face like a garden of dark thorns.  
Retreating was a mistake, and Ray took full advantage of it as the blade flipped in his hand and he drove the hilt upward to slam into his chin with a sickening crack, tears streaming down Ray's face at the cheerful jeering that serenaded his performance, the cacophony of voices making every bone in his body ache with agony. There were far too many people surrounding him and he could barely breathe as he pulled his hand back to issue another crack across Leteq's bloodied face.

And then he froze. There was a strange shift in the room. There was a change in something present that felt incredibly wrong to him. Leteq shakily lifted his hammer hand, though blood dribbled around his broken jaw and he could hardly bear the weight of it. It fell worthlessly back down even as Ray seemed to stare right through him with widened eyes.  
And then the proof of something wrong. A shriek likened to the sound of a fox finding its way into a henhouse, nobles screaming in agony and fear as one of their own dropped to the floor, blood spilt all around them. Ray noticed now that most of them wore colorful masks and they looked liked horrific specters in their panicked screams and turmoil. These were not people, but spirits, Ray thought with a sense of heady fear and deep-set superstition.

Another went down to his right and he dared to look in that direction, sure that Leteq had lost all desire to continue their dance, which had decidedly been one-sided on both their accounts. He was looking around as well, though he seemed to be having more trouble locating where the murders were happening. Another happened on Ray's other side and though some might have thought that these were being done by separate people, Ray had a different idea. It was not sight that determined the movement of the figure he was following after all.

He gritted his teeth desperately, nausea and pain burning through him as he turned quickly, jarring his broken arm, just in time for his blade to intervene the blade of his sudden assailant. They had a mask over their face and their eyes narrowed, but there was something that made Ray feel as if the figure was smiling.  
"Quick reflexively or clever senses. Either one has earned you another minute to live. Tell me now, where is that master of yours?" He hissed, the sound almost sounding like a laugh.  
Ray shook his head desperately, not knowing what to tell him even if he was willing to say. He didn't know at the moment, and the crowd around him made it harder and harder to figure out where anything was farther than the two of them locked together, especially with how they shook and screamed and struggled to get away.  
"That's a shame," the figure hissed, and his blade seemed to slither around Ray's and drag it out of the way, hissing against the metal of the dragon scimitar like the bow of a particularly evil violin to reach for Ray's throat at an alarming rate. Ray gasped in horror as he felt it cut into him and felt hot blood running down his neck. His face quickly got paler as he tried to pull himself away from the stranger, tried to stop the death that he was certain was rushing towards him faster than he could avoid it.  
Only there was something that wasn't quite right. The blade had glanced off something around his neck first and the look of absolute irritation that the man gave Ray told him that something hadn't quite gone right in his certain death.  
He yelped in terror as he felt a hand lock around the back of his collar and drag him back, certain that there had been a second assassin after all. He turned and clumsily tried to swing the blade at him, but the man simply grabbed his wrist and held it fast. He then realized the man he was looking at was Telago and opened his mouth to ask him about any sort of thing that was going on, but the wizard merely rolled his eyes at him.  
"Shut up, would you? You're going to make it harder to concentrate than it already is," he spat and grumbled. The moment Ray opened his mouth again to speak, Volbert bopped his nose with the flat of his hand. It wasn't enough to hurt, but it was enough to shock him into silence and raise a sense of indignation in him all at once.

Ray pushed closer, trying to throw him off balance, not really thinking about the predicament they were in still, but all at once the hand on his wrist moved to his neck and he felt another twinge of fear as he realized he was still bleeding, stumbling just a bit from a sense of light-headedness he didn't expect. The next moment he was subjected to the grotesque sensation of his skin knitting back together and that by itself was enough to quell any hostility still in him towards the wizard. By then it was over, they had teleported, and he was already returned to his plush room. Volbert grunted and pushed him down onto the bed, and this time he was willing to overlook his treatment, finding that his heart was racing too fast and that everything hurt too much to raise any objections.

The wizard watched him with critical eyes. The main purpose was to assure that the man didn't hurt himself, or to catch anything he might have missed on the surface. He personally found that he preferred to learn about any poison that the assassin he was faced against might have used rather that preserving one of Corivan's toys. After a while, however, Ray seemed to recover from his initial shock to Volbert's disappointment.

"You were clearly in trouble, weren't you? Why didn't you change into a wolf? I suppose I can understand why you didn't when you were first thrown in there with everyone's eyes on you, but why not when everyone was in a panic and that assassin was bearing down on you?" Volbert asked, drawing closer to take a closer look to see if he could find any wounds. He was certain that his arm was broken, but decided he would wait to see if Ray said anything about it.

Ray glared bitterly for a moment, but realized that it was what was to be expected. He knew what he was and he was required to understand him in some fashion.

"Well," he replied slowly, "It's easier to fight someone who has a weapon when you also have a weapon and you're on their level. It's actually much harder to fight an armed opponent as a wolf. Most wolves try to avoid it when they can." He grunted and squirmed uncomfortably as the wizard took his left arm in his hand. However gently Volbert was acting, there was something distinctly uncomfortable about the way he held his arm and was twisting it.

He then twisted it sharply the other way. All sense left Ray at the sudden influx of pain, and the next moment he was snarling and pushing forward to bite Telago. The moment after that a rush of energy shot up his arm, stunning him. He could still feel the painful sensation there, but all sense of movement was knocked out of him until finally even that pain subsided, though in a way the residual feeling felt worse, like his arm was a tube with two broken porcelain cylinders that grinded unevenly against each other. A moment later Telago was burning away his sleeve and a sticky filament took its place. It hardened into a cast and it no longer felt like the cylinders were moving any longer.

Volbert seemed to see the disgust the moment he started burning Ray's sleeve and grumbled impatiently, "It's already ruined as it is. It's not like there won't be a ton of other outfits. Just get over it."  
"Why don't you just heal it? Can't you heal it?" Ray dared to spit out the moment he could move his jaw again. Volbert just glared at him in annoyance as if he was inconveniencing him further with his question. Ray's eyebrows furrowed as he issued another growl, throwing his annoyance back in his face, but before he could say anything further—anything he might regret—Lady Corivan appeared in the doorway.

"Oh, my dear Ray," she cooed as she crossed the room to stand beside him. "I'm glad to see you're alright."

"You did leave me there to die. It's quite lucky that I'm here and alright at all," he muttered back bitterly.

She paused, and a frown undeniably creased her face as if his words surprised and displeased her, though the next moment she was wearing a hesitant smile. "I'm sure it must have been hard to see what was happening from where you were standing, but I did try to stop them. Even so it's better this way. This way the other houses know you and know to respect you. This way there won't be any question that you deserve to carry my symbol. It was all just a happy accident."

Ray watched her, trembling with agitation, but she merely laughed and sat beside him, wrapping her arms around him gently and supporting his arm. He started to show his teeth at her, but the relief was irresistible. She knew exactly how to stop the pinching, itching sensation, and she knew exactly when to reapply that stress as he struggled to decide whether he wanted her there or not until he considered it his own fault rather than hers whenever the pain started to set in again.

Before long he was willingly leaning against her, Volbert leaving them alone.


	6. Worth

Ray was looking anywhere other than at the house wizard as he sat in his office, the man looking over his medical records—most of which were made recently. The cast had been off for at least a month now, and he showed few signs of his previous injuries though Telago felt tempted to mention the bruises on his neck. The wizard considered how _convenient_ it would be if the slash he had sustained would have proven to be infected or fatal, especially when he watched the smug man casually looking around the room at his paintings and other memorabilia from his magic-based career.

"So, there's no pain when you move that arm," Telago began slowly.

"None at all. Nor was there the day before, or the day before that. If anything, there's been more movement in this arm than before I broke it," Ray muttered impatiently. He just wanted Telago to sign the paper confirming his health. "Rosana is waiting for me to assist her with picking a dress for tonight's gathering."  
Volbert was particularly glad that Ray was being particularly snobby today, wasn't looking at him, and that he had a particular control over his magic. Otherwise maybe he would have seen how he broke his pen the moment he referred to her by her first name, how the ink had momentarily covered his desk, how he ever so casually pulled it back into the pen and made it whole again as if nothing happened.

After a moment, he put the pen to the paper where he would be signing it and Ray looked at him finally, as if this was the big event and he was eager to see it. That's what he was counting on as he said, "Do you really think you're really worth anything to Lady Corivan?"

Ray's eyebrows rose in surprise and the man continued, "Don't you understand that you're merely a toy? I mean you're fairly useless just from this information. A novelty piece, merely. Certainly you have a talent for swinging that sword around, and you can change into a wolf which is a neat sort of thing for a toy to do, but I imagine there will be a time when you become just as boring and worthless as the rest of the toys she's gathered in the past."  
"What are you trying to get at?" Ray hissed, his teeth bared. "Are you trying to insult me? Discourage me?"  
"Oh no, I'm trying to warn you," Volbert answered casually, though the moment he saw Ray looking away again as if his words weighed nothing to him he stood, his own white teeth flashing as he glared at him. "You don't think you're the only man that she favors in the manner that you're favored, do you?"

Ray gave him a stubborn, sideways stare as he replied, "And what then? Will I become someone like you? Her secondary assistant, in charge of taking care of these men?"  
The wizard's expression was bitterly sweet as he replied, "Oh no, I've always had a solid and unerring use thanks to my abilities with magic. There wasn't a moment in which my position here was questionable, though someone as fresh as yourself wouldn't know that. No, you'll find yourself facing off against something too big to handle, or you'll find yourself on a mission that you won't be coming back from. If you're really lucky you'll be sent somewhere where you can rest easily, and I can tell from your mannerisms that by the time this is over you'll want to be put to rest."  
"My mannerism?" He muttered back, his gaze sharp like a blade.  
"Please," Volbert spat. "At least have the decency not to act ignorant even when confronted with it. You're feminine at your base. I must admit you have an interesting blend between the two, but it's undeniably a big part of the way you behave down to the way you make decisions. Your body language, your speech patterns, the way you eat. There are all signs of it. I know you think you can garner extra favor from Lady Corosia, but don't act like we don't know what you're doing."

His face fell and Volbert took this as a sign that he had been caught in his act and his face returned to expressionless, far more daunting than any sneers for him. Of course he was wrong, and Ray was stumbling over the fact that even after living as a man for so long he didn't appear masculine, his true identity wasn't really hidden even though he had worked hard to keep it clear out of sight. His throat was dry and his head was spinning.  
"So may he go?" A feminine voice broke his contemplation and he looked up to see Lady Corivan—Rosana—standing in the doorway, smiling at him though it was more likely that she was glaring over his shoulder at Telago.

"Of course," the wizard replied aloofly, signing the paper. "He's rested enough I suppose, though I won't be surprised if he reacts poorly going with you after how the last outing went."  
"It won't be a problem for someone as even-headed as Ray," she replied, smiling at him directly now, and he smiled back, trying not to think about what Telago had told him. He was convinced that the wizard was only bitter. He kept telling himself that with more and more conviction as Rosana moved to stand beside him.

His smile was more of a teasing grin now as he asked, "Am I really? I suppose we'll find out."  
Her expression twisted for a moment and now her smile was something that made his stomach twist and turn in anxiety that he couldn't quite place as she said, "Oh, I have confidence in you. You won't fail me. Come along, Ray. I already have my dress picked out as you can see."

He nodded a few times, though what she was wearing never really held any importance to him no matter how much interest he feigned. He felt like shoving that fact in Velago's pipe, but didn't say anything more as she led him from the room, the wizard watching them go sulkily.

***  
Ray felt a familiar dip in his stomach as they entered the crowded party with all sorts of different and colorful guests, remembering not only the last time he was exposed to such a gathering of strange, masked peacocks, but the times in which Zamorakians gathered so thickly that he could barely move his arms without touching someone next to him, his navigation requiring perfection and luck to make it through them without some sort of anomaly occurring.

Lady Corivan may have noticed the way his eyes were momentarily rolling like a frightened horse by the way she held his arm and steered him with careful finesse. It wasn't long before he settled a bit under her careful guidance and she began to speak to him in a low, guarded voice.

"This is the house of Conroy Hildersen," she told him carefully, watching to see if he was comprehending what she was saying and nodding in satisfaction as she saw him mentally tuck the name away. "His household is a huge distributor of coal and iron though there have been rumors that he has been dipping into something more herb related and I want a piece of the profit. He has a son and daughter that are thirteen and fifteen respectively. I want you to make sure that if you see them that you are absolutely friendly with them and make them feel as if House Corivan isn't a threat. Is that understood?"  
"Of course," Ray replied, though he eyed her anxiously. The way she was speaking she didn't intend to keep him close.

"Trust me, Ray. Nobody here is going to hurt you. There are far worse sorts than these here. If anything they'll simply be curious about you. There aren't many that are so honored as to work in my house, though I have nothing to fear from you," Rosana told him. "You're loyal after all."

She gave him another look that he couldn't quite read. It was sharp and her smile was sharp, and the next moment he found himself standing alone in the middle of the room.

"But what do I do if—"  
His mouth shut tight when he realized that she was gone and he took a deep breath. She had her own business to attend to, though he thought that as her guard it would have been better if he had stayed with her and watched her.  
With a heavy sigh he scanned the room and finally settled for finding a place on the edge of the room, near the safest wall he could find. There would be plenty of time to enjoy himself once he felt comfortable…if he would at all. He scanned the room forlornly, hoping to catch sight of her again as he waited there.


	7. Innocence

There was a moment in which the party around him had turned into background noise, in which the people he was watching had lost importance, in which he really didn't care whether or not he was seen or saw anything because he really didn't think he would. He just thought this was any other party and any other scene and so he relaxed against the wall, allowed it all to become background noise even as he felt the nagging sense of boredom start to creep in. He didn't know why he was here in the first place and he wondered why Lady Corivan had bothered to bring him if he was just going to stand against the wall. She mentioned being friendly if he happened to see the two teens, but he doubted he would see them. It almost made him anxious. Perhaps she wanted him to seek them out, though he wouldn't know what they looked like if he tried.

And then a young woman, more of a teen, leaned against the wall beside him and spoke to him. "That's House Corivan's symbol, right? I see her around all the time, but I never really see any of her people nor did I expect any of her people to be here."  
She casually pointed to the symbol sewn into his right chest pocket with the strangely curved bottle she was holding. He eyed it curiously and nodded as she took a drink from it.  
"Do you want some?" She asked. "What's your name?"

"What? Oh, uh, Ray, guard of house Corivan," he replied nervously as she took another sip from the container.

"Really? Sounds official. Do you recite that every morning? You seem a bit nervous," she said, offering him the bottle now. "It's pop. My dad makes it. He's thinking of mass producing it. It's why we call it pop. What do you think of it? It's not alcoholic."  
His face had flushed a bit, not really knowing what to say, and so he took the bottle and took a sip, sure she wouldn't offer something deadly to him that she had drank from herself. He hoped not anyway as he eyed her, though the drink itself was sharp and carbonated and he passed it back to her quickly, coughing a few times.

She laughed into her hand, taking another sip of it after him. "It's a bit strange when you first start drinking it, but it really grows on you after a while. My dad says it's going to be the next big thing. Is that what your Lady Corivan is after?"  
He stared at her for a long while. She seemed plain enough, with dark hair pulled into a ponytail and light brown eyes, though he couldn't say she was less than pleasant to look at. "Would you happen to be," he fished for the name a bit in his head, "Miss Hildersen?"  
"Well I guess you could call me that, Mr. guard of Corivan Manor," she replied with a smirk, "but I would tell you you're being too formal. Why not just call me Jaune?"

"John? Isn't that a boy's name?" Ray replied, wrinkling his nose.

"Jaune," she corrected with a wide smile, "Though I must admit it's a silly name to give your daughter, don't you think, Ray?"  
He eyed her curiously, but merely shrugged, "I don't know much about what it's like to be a noble myself so I couldn't say whether or not it's a strange name."  
"I suppose you're right. I suppose I'll likely always be Miss Hildersen," she replied, taking another sip of soda.

"What if you're married?" He replied off-handedly, eyeing the bottle now.

"Well I don't know. There's a lot of weight that comes with marriage, isn't there? What about you? I guess it's easier for someone who gets most of their name from an acquired title," she replied, "and less from a legacy to withhold." There seemed to be a joke somewhere in her words, but Ray couldn't quite get it. "Here, do you want this? I have another."  
He looked at the bottle she offered hesitantly, but after a moment he took it, taking another hesitant sip and then another as he started to realize that he liked it.

"You're funny, Ray. So, I gave you that, now tell me what you think of marriage," she laughed.  
"I don't think I'm ever getting married," he snorted. "I don't think so anyway."  
"Is there anyone you love?" She asked.

"Well," he started slowly before shaking his head quickly. "No one, really. Not really. I don't think I know what love is honestly."  
"You do look like the type. I mean the type that doesn't have many friend, but ought to," she replied. "I can't imagine what that's like, not that I have many myself but…I think you deserve friends."

"Friends?" Ray replied with a shrug.  
"Everyone deserves friends," she replied before shrugging. "Well, maybe not everyone. How can I know that for certain? But I think you and I do, and that's enough, right?"  
"I guess so," Ray replied hesitantly, not knowing what to say. In the end they didn't say much, but they did spend time in each other's company, talking lightly every so often and drinking pop together against the wall. Ray felt conflicted, having imagined meeting her while dancing, but he considered that he liked this much better.  
After so many hours of drinking soda he murmured awkwardly, "I need to…go out for a bit. I'll be—"  
He shuffled uncomfortably, but she smiled at him. "Go ahead. I'll wait right here for you, alright?"  
He nodded, rushing out quickly, but when he returned to find her again he found himself nearly running into Lady Corivan, and she was on her way out. She looked surprised, almost angry, but she shook her head and told him, "Good, I was hoping to find you. Let's go. There's no time to waste."

He felt conflicted, looking in and saying, "But I met one of the people you mentioned and—"  
"Good, I'm glad you know what one of them looks like at least. Now let's go," she said, her tone sharp. He was a bit shocked, and almost even angry, but he let her lead him away. She never acted like this before so he thought that it truly must have been urgent.

When they returned to the manor he started to head to bed, but she snapped, "What do you think you're doing? Don't you think you have a job to do?"  
"But, usually when we go to—"  
"I didn't ask you to give me excuses. I want you to stay right here in the main hall and guard like you're here to do," she hissed at him, moving past him and slamming the door before he could say anything else.

He felt a hard pain in his stomach as he wondered what he had done wrong, and wondered what she had expected from him, and then he felt a wave of anger at her for acting like this toward him tonight. He felt almost rebellious, but he couldn't bring himself to leave where he was told to stay and so he stayed where he was despite feeling tired and a bit nauseous from all the pop he drank. He felt dizzy too, the room spinning, and after a while he sat down with his back against the wall. He reassured himself that he could stay awake even when sitting like this, and so it was a surprise when a noise woke him up. It was a particularly loud noise, but it was particularly foreign to the sounds he was used to hearing from the manor at night, and that was enough to wake him.

He moved to his feet effortlessly and glided toward the sound much like he might hunt a stray mouse in the daytime. The closer he drew the quieter his footsteps became and the lighter his breath. That's why when he reached the door where he knew he heard the sound come from he didn't quite expect a blade to flash down at his back from behind him. His hearing was excellent, however, and so the moment he heard the blade cutting through air he was already moving to the side and so the cut was shallow, but it still stung and still frightened him a good deal. He realized his attacker must have thrown something down the hallway in order to make it sound like they were there rather than where they had been hiding in wait.

The next strike collided with his blade, and this time he was making sure to keep something behind him so if there was another intruder they wouldn't be able to reuse the same trick of a distraction, at least not to easily. He was a bit surprised as the person standing before him was considerably shorter, or maybe younger, though he couldn't quite tell. He could tell that the young man fighting against him was professionally trained, though Ray considered that it wasn't always the best way to learn how to fight. He followed strict patterns, for example, and didn't seem to have a completely natural knack for it to make up for that fact.

Which was fine and good against many untrained people, but not against someone who grew up learning the best ways to kill someone before they killed them, and this boy—just barely a teen—really wanted to kill him. Ray didn't really know why, but it was enough to make his blood boil knowing that this boy was intruding on his home and yet had the audacity to so strongly want him dead.

He set him on a simple enough pattern. It wasn't perfect, but he had learned it well enough in Varrock fighting against the local guards. It was a simple enough sword drill to follow, and it was easy to fall into the pattern. Ray would have scoffed if it didn't give him away, knowing that the young man he was fighting didn't typically fight real opponents. Ray felt a sick satisfaction the moment he suddenly deviated from the pattern, grabbing his hand as the young's man sword thrust forward at a time when Ray was meant to block so that instead his blade was pulled harmlessly past. He then dragged him closer, being the one to thrust instead.  
He was sickly pleased the moment he felt his blade sink into the young man's side into his vital organs, but that satisfaction was dimmed by the sudden guilt that hit him in a way he didn't expect. This was practically a boy, after all. Ray suddenly felt his sickness tangibly, but he tried to push that feeling down, trying to justify that he too was this young and he too was threatened with this sort of thing daily, though he never walked right into it.  
Only this one didn't know better.  
His contemplation was cut short at the sound of a young woman screaming, the sound so full of agony that he would have thought that it was from the boy he still held in a macabre parody of a waltz. He was almost hesitant to release him, prepared for his blade to sink into him the moment his hand was released, but there was something final about how he fell to the floor instead. Ray almost felt as if he was standing to the side, no longer with his body. He had killed plenty of people before, but there was something odd about how the young man just hit the floor. It was so sudden and final, and the screaming was still happening, still ringing in his ear all the while.

And even after it felt like he was still standing by, watching, because the moment he had let him go and he fell Ray hadn't paused. He hadn't paused because a crossbow bolt had hit the wall right by where his head had been, as if the wielder's hands were shaking, or perhaps they were startled by how quickly Ray was darting toward their owner, a beast in human form, the sword soaked in her brother's blood rearing back to be brought forth to sink into her as well. All that was certain was that the bolt had missed.

Only he recognized her. He knew her. He had talked to her for hours on end. And so he paused. He thought he owed her that. He stood over her and her hands were shaking so badly that she was struggling to load another bolt into the crossbow she had leveled at him, at his chest, but she was a trooper and she kept trying to load it.

His blade was poised at the ready however, could have been in her before she took her next breath, but instead it had just…stopped. He didn't move. He simply stared at her. A crossbow bolt hitting him directly in the chest when he was so close would be instantly…fatal.

"M-Miss…M-Miss Hildersen," he croaked out. She was no longer screaming. He had done something wrong. A faux pas. She had asked him to call her…  
"You're a monster," she said, and she must have been stuttering, must have been struggling to speak, but he heard it so plainly, so crisp and cold, that maybe she wasn't. "You tricked me into becoming fond of you, and then you killed my mother. You killed my mother, and then you killed my brother."

He could hear the click as she finally managed to snap the crossbow in place and pull it back.


	8. To Kill

There was something beautiful about what an intense enough heat could do to a crossbow, wood popping and crackling, metal heating to a deep red, string melting away to nothing. It wasn't so beautiful what it could do to the human skin, how it could peel back to reveal blackening bone, and the hoarse noise that drew from rapidly deteriorating vocal chords being cut off too abruptly, too suddenly for him to register that there had been a noise at all.

He wept openly, but the heat merely left a trail of salt, and though he had started to reach for her, the intense heat drove him back. He was sure that the fire had engulfed him as well, and that he was burning up along with her, and he sobbed in horror and covered his face with his hands. He couldn't have known that there was a barrier between him and her and that the heat was merely that, though it didn't prevent his face from blistering.  
Volbert frowned indignantly at Ray as he walked up to him, his boots crunching through the mere ash that remained, neatly kept in a perfect circle where the barrier had surrounded her. He stopped suddenly just as Ray doubled over, vomiting heavily onto the floor, and his arms had crossed to grip his shoulders in a vain attempt to stop the shaking.

"You killed her," Ray gasped, whimpers escaping him with each sobbing breath.  
The wizard stared humorlessly at Ray and then pointed past him as he took another step, the mess not seeming to touch his shoes despite how he had already walked through the ashes. He seemed immaculate compared to Ray. Ray was disheveled and heaving, his hair like a rat's nest, but Volbert was neatly groomed, not a touch of blood or otherwise on him.

"And you killed him, didn't you?" He said in a calm, even tone.

"I didn't mean—"  
He was cut off abruptly, Volbert gripping his golden collar and dragging him closer with an alarming strength that was undeniably augmented by magic. "Listen here and listen good. You better never say that you didn't intend to kill _anyone_ in Lady Corivan's presence or you'll wish I turned you into a rat and fed your insides to a bird of prey while you're still alive—here and now—while I can get away with it. If she hears that you hesitated at all like you did with that girl there will be—"  
"What's all this?" Lady Corivan asked as she swept in. Ray's eyes, glued to Volbert a moment ago, couldn't help but be drawn to her now. There was something about her sweeping, light nightgown that demanded attention, her vermillion hair contrasted it like a beacon in a peaceful sea. Her expression sent a rush of confusion and horror through Ray, and he already felt like he was being torn by talons. It was a calm, composed expression, which made the fear even more poignant.

Volbert was slowly easing him back, any fury leaving him as his hand slowly pulled away from the collar and he turned to confront his Lady Corosia. "There were intruders, and Ray and I dispatched them quickly and efficiently. As you can see, they won't be bothering you again."  
Lady Corivan nodded slowly and elegantly—the only way Ray could describe it—as she glided over the pile of ash with no regard for the person that it once was, and past him to that person's brother.

"This is their son, and would I be incorrect in assuming that the other was their daughter?" She asked, her tone unreadable and cold. Ray stood stiffly and didn't move, his heart pounding. After a long moment, she hissed crisply, "Are either one of you going to answer me? You said you met her, didn't you?"

His mind blanked, and he didn't know how to respond at first, his heart only going faster. He hoped that before he could muster anything to say Volbert would answer for him, but he could feel her eyes boring into him. He answered hesitantly, nervously, "I don't know. I didn't know what they—"  
"But you knew who one of them was. You wanted to get back to her," she answered, her voice chillingly calm. He didn't realize how close she was until that moment. He could practically feel her breath and found that he couldn't stop shaking.  
"It's just that—"  
"You want me to believe that you were speaking of the boy? The boy you mutilated without a second thought? The one that lies dead by your sword?" She hissed in his ear, each word clipping. She may as well have been drawing a razor across his skin. "Not so with the girl. The girl you would have let shoot you in the heart like a stupid beast of prey."

"You—" His words were cut off with a sharp punch, her other hand holding him in place so he couldn't escape from her reach, the hand delivering the blow held back as if she intended to follow with a slap. He could feel blood trickling down his face, but the sudden twitch of that hand stopped him from reaching up to stem the floor.

"If you ever assume you can lie to me again be assured that your punishment won't be light, Ray," she gritted out. With her hand on the collar, her control over him seemed to assure that what would have been a steady stance was nothing more than that of a doll. Not that he felt anything like steady, his legs feeling like liquid beneath him in the face of her wrath, her eyes staying locked on his, and he struggled not to let his gaze drop to the floor. She seemed to hold his eyes there with great malice. After a moment longer, she finally gave him relief, her eyes moving from him to a point past him, and he realized that she was looking at Volbert. He could hear an audible pop as he teleported away.

She huffed, her hand that was raised to strike dropping though she kept a firm grip on the collar, dragging him to the door. She turned abruptly and hissed in his ear, "You have a job to do if you want to redeem yourself, and you'll do it if you know what's best for you."  
She seemed to register his expression, his apprehension, and was now using the hand she struck him with to brush his shoulder slowly and rhymically, her tone like honey, "I know I should be patient with you, Ray. I know I'm scaring you, but it's very important that you do this. We're all in danger if you fail, and you know that I'm simply trying to do what's best for all of us. It was very bad that you lied to me about the girl. They aim to destroy us, Ray, and if she were still alive and knew about you, then you would be their first target. I was upset for your sake, understand?"  
Ray was dumb-founded as she leaned forward and kissed his cheek sweetly, murmuring in his ear, "You've got to do to them what they tried to do to us, but without fail. You've got to kill that man and prove yourself worthy. You'll be protecting us. You'll be held highly. My sweet wolf, you remember where to go, don't you?"

"I do," he replied. His mouth was dry, his heart beating frantically.  
She nodded, prodding him out the door. That same door slammed behind him, and all that pent up energy went to panic, sending him galloping wildly into the streets of Ardougne, aimlessly. He felt momentarily disoriented when he finally gathered himself, and his breath came out silvery, the air enough to make him shiver. It was late, but he didn't know how late, and he felt like morning would come and expose him as a failure at any moment, his eyes casting about nervously. His stomach sloshed violently, and a quiet whimper escaped his lips. He didn't know where he was.  
He changed to wolf form, and his nose immediately picked up the scent. It was the acrid smell of soda, and he felt relieved and guilty all at once. He had killed her, and this was what was bringing him closer to her father. What was he supposed to do again? He was wrong when he had told Corivan that he understood her

He passed iron fences and dark alleyways. At one house a big guard dog threw itself at him, barking and snarling, spittle striking where his paws had been a moment before, tail tucked, ears flattened. He growled back, but it was scared noise, paranoid, and he was running again soon after.  
It was hard to realize that this was the same house he had been to, for a party, that very night when he finally arrived. The lanterns had all but gone out, and the guests were gone or on their way, or scattered on the floor and ground. He felt his fur standing on end as he walked toward the door, yelping as an abandoned drunkard twitched as he passed by, though as far as he could tell he still slept. This was still in the yard, and he wasn't even inside yet. He changed back to human form the moment he reached the front door, pushing it open tentatively.

"Hello, Ray," the only man still standing said. There were a few guests left over, but most of them were slumped against the wall or in a stupor on cushioned furniture, murmuring incoherently to their neighboring unconscious companion. "It is Ray, isn't it? You may know me as Lord Hildersen. I was wondering when you would arrive."  
Ray immediately recognized that he wasn't just any man, but the man he was meant to find, to destroy, and that filled him with trepidation now that he stood in front of him. He didn't look altogether impressive. He was a portly man, with a soft, round gut and a chubby face. He looked kind, in fact, smiling gently at Ray, his brown eyes kind and patient above his thick, brown beard, shot through with grey.  
"There's no need to be afraid," The portly noble told him, seeing his hesitation. "I know it wasn't you that was the doom of my family, young man. It was the fox that stole from my henhouse, and I should have known better. You ought to know better as well. I'm sure you have no idea what kind of woman your serve."  
"She took me in when I was dying on the side of the road," Ray answered, his voice low and scared, like a scolded child as he drew closer. His nose twitched nervously as the noble extended his hand slowly.

"And I'm sure she promised you love and protection in her house. That' what most people are told when they find themselves in her services," he replied, sounding nearly apologetic. "Come here, my boy."  
He was trembling at this point, his head shaking back and forth slowly. He had trouble catching his breath with each moment. He didn't realize how close he had drawn, flexing his hands nervously. At this proximity, he could see the man's face properly now. He realized, with dread flooding his lungs like liquid fire, that he knew that look. He had seen it before.

It was the same one that Rosana gave him, and what was worse was that he realized that it was also the one that he recognized from his fellow Zamorakians, from the White Knights, from Beraliska.

 _How can I use you?_

Only he loved her this time.

The man smiled at him as he put his hand on his shoulder. Ray didn't even realize he was so close. He didn't even pull away though he felt he should have. He should have a second sooner, anyway. He jerked back the moment he felt a prick through the thin fabric of his clothes. His eyes darted to the man's hand, and with a numb sort of satisfaction he puzzled out that it was the ring on his finger. Small, dark and spiked.

"You mongrel," Hildersen began, his voice still strangely calm and friendly though the context definitely changed. Ray could still see the ring plainly despite how the man's hands were now both in his pockets. "My daughter told me all about you. Told me about how you seemed lost in the world and needed our help. She spoke so highly of you, Mr. Ray. I was so proud of her, though certainly not for the reason you expected. I was proud because she poisoned you."  
His eyes widened, and he opened his mouth, but only a joked gasp came out.  
"No need to try to speak," he chuckled. "I'll explain. The soda I've been trying to sell is only one half of the poison. Completely harmless on its own. Combined with this substance I introduced into your blood, however? Your system is prepared to quit."  
 _Ray saw a flickering flash of the ring again at the mention of it, but he also imagined what it would be like for his daughter to pet his nose. He struggled to hang onto what he was saying._

"Now dying won't be an entirely uncomfortable experience for you. It'll be quite nice, I imagine, for someone like you who never had a chance to enjoy themselves," he told him, watching him sway. "I know your secret, dog, and it won't be long before that master of yours is cornered for it. She thought she was sending you here to kill me, but really she was just giving up the last piece I need to destroy her."  
 _He tried to focus on what he was saying, but all he could really focus on was that warm feeling in his stomach when Rosana would scratch behind his ears._

"She'll be dead soon as well, however, so you have nothing to fear if you were worried about parting with her," he continued. "Talking of that, What god do you follow? Well, I suppose it doesn't matter. Saradominists will come to mop you up before too long."  
 _There was one thing that always brought him relief, that always scratched a desperate itch at the back of his mind._

He slipped his sword into the noble's stomach, twisting again and again. A hearty smile crossed his face as he murmured, "I'm a Zamorakian."  
 _He watched the man fall, his face white and gaunt, and felt a sense of relief. Nobody would be able to go back and tell their order about her father. They could live happily together for as long as they wanted in that old house in Varrock._

Hildersen didn't understand as he coughed and wheezed, grasping his innards desperately. He didn't think it was possible for anyone to be able to do such harm while in the state Ray was in. He didn't know Ray's greatest desires at all, the one thing that he believed would have made him happy, really. Ray laughed cheerfully, elated to have carved out the stomach of the man that had assured that his life would be hell all those years ago like he couldn't have as a child, elated that he did not know the face of the man that he had killed presently.

Ray, under the influence of the drugs, did not know that he had stabbed Hildersen, but he had done so nonetheless.

Hildersen couldn't help but be surprised when he saw Ray fall, almost as if he had expected that poison wasn't affecting him at all, but if anything he was absolutely amazed at the wolf lying beside him. He had never seen such beautiful, red fur in his life.


	9. Fever Dream

I knew that I was late even as I shrugged on my backpack. Dad has already left for the morning to tend the flock. This was the third time I've slept in, and I was desperately taking all the shortcuts. The cats and Zamorak taught me where to find them, and they know secrets far beyond my own. I can't help but feel relieved when I see my mom is still there, waiting for me. She's so beautiful and handsome, tall and surreal, and I can't help but admire her long and straight black hair that flows in the cold northern air like she and the spirits have made a hard pact. Not like my hair, dark and red, curly and almost wooly on its frizzier days. She turns and I almost expect her to be angry with me, though I don't know why I would think so. She never is, her eyes always so soft and patient, warm like wild honey, and I offer her an apologetic grin, shivering. I don't think I will ever get used to the cold of the north, but I love it so much all the same. This is where my uncle lives, but he's off somewhere today. I'm going to ask him to teach me how to sail tomorrow, or maybe we can spar.

"Delarn, are you paying attention?" My mother is smiling at me, eyes dancing with amusement, and I can feel my face getting hotter as I realize that she's been trying to talk to me.

"Sorry, mom. What?" I say, opening my mouth a few times like an idiot as I can only guess at what she was saying to me.

"I want to teach you about your bloodline, Delarn," she said patiently. "I want to teach you about Wolf Magic. I think you're old enough to handle it now, and I don't know when I'll get the opportunity to instruct you again."

I wanted to ask why, but I knew I wasn't going to get a straight answer. My mom was always mysterious, always an enigma, and I doubted I would ever truly understand her. I was more excited to learn about Wolf Magic. Some Lyalltines were more adept at it than others, but it ran in our family on her side. I nodded eagerly, asking immediately, "Will I be able to make lightning like you do?"

She chuffed, a good-natured sort of sound, and replied, "My lightning is unique to me. I'm sure you'll figure out your element one day if you do have the gift. Even so, I want you to know that being a mystic is very serious. It's a manner of understanding your limits and the limits of those around you. It's an art of blood and should be respected as such. Blood is a measurement of life, and if you lose sight of that then you'll quickly find yourself running out."

I found a cold chill going up my spine as her voice became less patient and more severe, that smile disappearing for a moment, but it returned as she asked, "Do you understand, Delarn?"  
"Yes, mum," I murmured, and she seemed to be set at ease by my wide-eyed stare. I felt so small and young compared to her.

She nodded and murmured, "Good. Now the first thing I'm going to show you is how to mentally connect to people. Let me look into your heart, Delarn. You're going to feel it immediately, and it might frighten you, but this will be a valuable lesson for you."  
The next moment it felt as if a hand was moving into my skull, but it wasn't an unpleasant feeling. I could hear my mom telling me, "not all people will be so gentle with you, but hopefully you'll never experience someone trying to enter your mind hostilely Now let's take a closer-

"Where is my father, fucking green cloak," the scraggly teenager barked. The ranger had managed to get around her, had caught her tracking him. She hated Rangers. She blamed every single one of these bastards for letting her father die. Her father was friends with a ranger, and he had let him die. Now this one wouldn't even tell her what they did with his body. She knew they would be the ones to know. They knew everything or they sure as hell acted like it.

"Hey, just calm down a bit," he replied, his hands raised to show he wasn't armed, though she knew that he could have that bow in his hand at a moment's notice. She showed her teeth at him, feeling the wall against her back, knowing he was blocking the exit. "I just want to know why you were following me. And what's this about your father? What was his name? Let's take a little breather, and you can explain what's going on between you and I."  
Name. That's how they got you. Names. She could never manage to do it. Change her name. Her father gave it to her.

The more she studied this strange Ranger, the more she could feel hot tears building in her eyes until they started spilling over and she was suddenly sobbing, gasping whimpers that exhaled from her stomach. She was going to throw up. She stepped toward him, reaching out desperately. He could see there was nothing in her hands. By now he had taken the time to check and double check and triple check every possibility. She was barely even a teenager. Just a scrap, if even that.

And Delarn, that night, felt sick with guilt. It flooded her. She didn't want to do anything like that again.

The mechanism worked simply. There was a tube that went around the collar of the cloak she wore where a needle was hidden. She could bite down on the opposite end of the tube, and it would cause air to go through it, shooting out a dart covered in poison. Potent. Immediate if it hit the heart. He was a head taller than her at least, and so the perfect height for it to be effective as he held her in a hug, firm but considerately easy to escape from if she needed to.  
She didn't know if his expression was knowing or surprised, and that's what made her feel the worst. Did he trust her just like that? Did he already know what she was going to do?

"My name is Carlisle," he mentioned a moment before, trying to gain her trust. What was the true weight of a name?

She had accepted that her father was gone a long time ago. She had gotten what she needed from him. The papers. It was easier to change facts on paper. It was easier to kill people when it wasn't as a wolf. The wolf was her identifier more than her name. It was easy to change a name on paper. Delarn was given to her, not these rangers and their papers. By the time they found these papers they would think it was the Zamorakians that took them; the ones that wouldn't confess to this, the ones that were too chaotic to give trustworthy answers to the means in which he died. Decari? Delarn? Easy to change on paper. Did Carlisle have a family? A father? A daughter?

Once my vision was over my mom asked me, "What did you see?" I couldn't help but grin.

"I think I saw the Forest of Heaven," I told her, not knowing what to call it, my heart racing.  
"Did you now?" She replied with a warm smile. "I want you to remember what it felt like when I entered your mind because not only will it be noticeable when someone else does it to you, but it will be whenever you do it to them. They will know you're there if you ever find a need to do so. Sometimes the matter will be as simple as speaking to a higher being, or maybe you'll have to sway someone by means that are greater than yourself. Never attempt to do this for reasons of manipulation or harm, or you will find it coming back to you."  
I felt a bit afraid at that moment, but I knew I would know when to use it. It felt almost as if my mom had given me that gift. To know. Knowledge could often be taken for granted. Where it comes from and where it goes.

"Remember, Delarn," she told me, her voice soft, sounding almost far away. "When the time comes to use blood you must know that you must be free from malice. Anything done in anger will evaporate any greater cause you may have. Madness will settle in the moment you lose faith in what you believe in, what you are. My darling child, make your peace with death before it's too late."  
"What do you mean?" I asked, and she laughed, changing to her wolf form. Black fur and an excellent form; what my blood was made of. She sprang. I shifted as well, and we tumbled in the soft snow, fighting and nipping at each other playfully.

Until the torrential rains came down. Shrieking and wailing. Fear from the crew. The ship was going under. Beraliska cried and wept desperately, the sound a bear wailing in pain.

The old Fremennik tracked the bear for a solid week, the sharpened wolf fang that he fed the beast slowly cutting up the bear's insides until it finally came to an end, the agony finally over.  
The ship heaved back and forth, rattling and screaming in agony. I kicked desperately as the woman gripped my leg and pulled me closer, water sloshing over the rails and sloshing back filled with bear blood.

"I swear I loved you. I didn't know better. Delarn…Delarn…Delarn!"

Ray took a rattling breath as another bucket of water was dumped over his head. He groaned, his head bent forward, teeth chattering. The water was freezing. He was on a hard, wooden chair, his arms tied to the arms of the chair, and his legs to the legs. His stomach shuddered hatefully as he tried to get his bearing.  
"Ray. Are you quite finished?" A voice cut in, impatient. He looked up slowly, and Lady Corivan stood there, holding a bucket at her hip, staring pensively at him.  
"What happened? Where is my mother?" Ray croaked and paused, surprised at how deep his voice was. He rumbled, almost not recognizing it.

"Your mother? Ray, do you know where you are?" She then rolled her eyes, knowing he wouldn't as they were in the chamber under the manor, somewhere he hadn't been before. "Do you know who I am?"  
Ray, as she was talking, was starting to realize his mistake and thus replied gruffly, "Ro—Lady Corivan, what happened?"

"You were poisoned, Ray, but you also completed your task. We brought you here to clean out your system, and you're tied down so you wouldn't hurt yourself or anyone else. You've survived." She replied bluntly.

He blinked slowly at her. She seemed peevish about it, and he couldn't figure out why.  
"Well, it seems you're alive, but I'm going to leave you down here for another night to assure it. Good night, Ray." She turned jerkily and sauntered out, her high heels clicking on the cold stone floor. He stared after her until the door closed and the dark closed in around him with it. He could feel tears in his eyes as his head slumped back down.


	10. Magic

"I don't think I'll ever keep all of these separate," Ray sighed as he went through the spices, the head chef watching him balefully.

"I thought you were supposed to have some sort of higher sense of smell," he answered. "I thought you wanted to learn."

"I do! It's just that it all mixes together. I can't keep them separate. They have all these weird names also. Who things of these?" Ray answered, his nose wrinkling.

"Thyme? Basil? Cumin? Cilantro? Ginger?" The chef spit out the name of each spice with a pained expression.

"Please stop. Please don't do this to me. Those are just names of people. I don't know what those mean," Ray murmured.

"You were the one that came in here wanting to know about the spices," the old chef huffed.

"Did you think I might have wanted your company instead?" He answered, taking on a hurt tone as the chef rolled his eyes

"Nobody wants to spend time with old Hayden without some sort of motive towards my sweets or what have you," he grumbled.

"No, Master Chef Hayden," Ray murmured, "I don't know what you mean."

"Ah, flatterer," the blond-haired man grumbled.

"Ray," another voice cut in, and he turned to see that it was Volbert. "Come with me. With have things to discuss."

He watched him with a few misgivings, having not seen him since the night that he had disappeared. Hayden cut in, "Good! Take this obnoxious beast out of my kitchen. He's been smelling enough of my spices for the day."

Volbert's frown deepened, and Ray immediately felt uneasy as he dared to approach the wizard. The man reached out to touch his arm, and Ray tried not to jerk away as he was teleported to Volbert's office. The first thing the wizard said was, "You've been making quite an effort to act as if nothing happened. Is this some sort of coping mechanism or are you just stupid? I need to know before I start teaching you magic."

"I don't know what else I'm supposed to do," Ray grumbled. "It's not like I can change anything about it, and it's not like Lady Corivan is going to talk to me about it. She's been avoiding me ever since she brought me out of the basement."

"Have you considered leaving?" Volbert told him plainly. "I think it would be in your best interest if you did leave."

Ray opened his mouth to answer, annoyance spreading across his features, but what he intended was lost as he realized that he didn't have the reason why he wouldn't want to leave. He did, actually, but he felt immediately foolish trying to speak it aloud. He then found something to cling to, to change the subject.

"You mentioned teaching me magic. What was that about?" He asked, and Volbert sighed.

"That is about keeping you alive if you're not going to see common sense in going elsewhere. You have some sort of magic about you. I doubt it would really be a stretch teaching you at least the basics of magic and a bit about protecting yourself. What kinds of elements do you tend to align yourself with? The mop water when you're cleaning? The dust? The grass when you're laying about all day?"

"It's more about the warmth of the sun," he muttered. "It gets really cold at night. And I really like to cook more than anything though I don't think I'm really that good at it. Not the best anyway."

"So, you're saying that you identify with fire," Volbert groaned, covering his face with his hand.

"Now that you mention it, yeah. It was the thing that earned me Zamorak's blessing when I was a kid, and it was kind of a constant after that," he sighed, reminiscing.

Volbert was now covering his face with both hands. "Violent and volatile. Just the sort of person I wouldn't want learning magic, let alone in my proximity. Even so, fire is the type of magic that I'm most acquainted with by means of attack and defense, so I suppose teaching you won't be too much trouble."

"And does Lady Corivan care that I'm learning magic? What will happen if she finds out that you're here and teaching me magic?" Ray asked.

"She won't care at all that I'm here. I live here," he answered simply. "Did you think she would want to be rid of me for your mistake? I don't believe she'll want you learning magic, but I doubt she'll say anything. It will make you more useful to her, after all."

Ray nodded slowly, believing that to make plenty of sense as Volbert stood and walked around his desk to a nearby bookcase, studying it for a moment before picking out a few books. He stacked them in front of Ray and told him, "I need you to read these. It's essential that you have knowledge of the basics of magic before I dare to teach you anything else that might get you or me injured."

He rolled his eyes, expecting Ray to argue or refuse the books, but was pleasantly surprised as the young man hastily picked the top one up and started looking through it, explaining, "It's been a while since I've gotten my hands on a quality book. I remember that I used to read all the time when I was in Varrock, as dangerous as it tended to be to get what I needed to do so at times."

"You should have said something sooner. It would have been quite simple to acquaint you with our house's library if that was something you were interested in," Volbert answered.

"Remind me of that after I get these done, Master Telago," Ray answered, already leaning forward and reading with great concentration. Volbert noted how Ray seemed to hold the book particularly close to his face and considered offering to assist him with that, but he decided that was an issue for another day.

Ray spent the next few weeks throwing himself into his studies, exploring the intricacies of magic and the basics of the arts while Volbert coached him on specific techniques and ideas as they arose. He took to fire quite quickly and seemed to have an affinity for it. Telago saw him often simply gazing into fires and making subtle gestures, moving the flames about with little effort.

He didn't know what to make of it, but during this time he saw Lady Corivan little as if she were avoiding him or simply didn't care that he existed. It made him feel particularly uneasy and upset, but he didn't mention it to Volbert, knowing that the man would merely mock him or make him feel more foolish for worrying about it. He was surprised when one day she actually did speak to him, seeming to behave as if she hadn't taken such a long hiatus from him at all.

"Dear Ray, why don't you take a walk with me in the gardens? It's such a nice day," she told him with a warm smile on her face. He felt almost weary, unsure of how to take this.

"Yes, of course," he replied after a moment of hesitation, trying not to appear dumbfounded by her sudden change of heart. She nodded widely and took his arm, leading him along and leaning against his shoulder.

"Ray," she asked him once they were outside, "What has kept you so preoccupied lately? You seem rather busy despite how I haven't been requesting you to do anything at all. I want to understand what you're up to." Her tone sounded sweet and curious, but there was something about it that made a rock settle in his gut like she had caught him at something he was doing wrong.

"I've just been practicing magic," he explained carefully, "because I know how important it is to you that I'm always ready when a threat comes up. I want to prove to you that what happened last time won't happen again. I don't want you to have to save me again when it's my job to keep you safe."

At the mention of magic, her lips seemed to purse, and she looked away for a moment as if she didn't want him to see her expression, and he wondered if what he had said had caught her off guard. She looked at him again and gave him a tight smile, telling him, "I'm quite proud of you for taking the initiative in my absence. I was afraid that you might be getting lazy or careless, and you know that a guard of House Corivan can be neither. You're very important to me, and it would be a shame if I'd have to let you go."

He felt his cheeks redden in anger as she said this, feeling as she wouldn't have left him wondering for so long if she actually cared for him. His mouth parted in protest, but the next moment she was leaning in and kissing him. It wasn't deep or insistent, but it was solid and possessive. She leaned back and smiled teasingly, and he felt his heart both melt and sink.


	11. An End

Ray felt as if he was going to drown, felt as if blood was flooding his lungs as Lady Corivan tinkered with the chains around his arms, smiling as he coughed and gasped. His arms were held above his head, and great welts were scored across his chest.

"You love me, don't you, Ray?" She cooed, and he choked out a breathless, silent reply. She grinned wider and slashed the lash she held firmly in her hands across his chest again. "Don't you?"

"I do," Ray coughed, his voice heavy and wet as he tried desperately to bring air into his lungs, his head spinning. He couldn't recall how he had gotten down here. He did know that after they had talked in the garden things had taken a sudden turn. She had acted particularly fond of him. They had spent hours together, and it nearly felt like before. He had even started calling her Rosana again.

But as the night grew later a certain theme began to crop up. She had started it with just a few simple words. "Don't you love me, Ray?" He had assured her that he did, and the moment that was made certain she made it certain that he would need to prove himself.

"I think he's had enough," Lady Corivan told Volbert with a strange sort of smile as he stood at grim attention in the back of the room. They were in the basement, but it was a different part than where he had found himself previously, and she had been far more interested in giving him attention here. Only he wasn't sure if he liked the kind of attention she gave him.

"If you're not careful you're going to kill him," Telago informed her with a sort of frown on his face, and Ray could feel his face heating up.

"I can handle it," he gasped. "I've handled worse." He could feel drool and blood running down his face, dribbling from his mouth, and he couldn't help but feel angry and embarrassed, knowing that Volbert was staring at him with his unsympathetic eyes. He was aware that the wizard was likely thinking of how he had warned him of this, and how he didn't heed him, and that this was his fault that he was here. "I like it," he informed him.

Telago didn't say anything, and Ray wasn't sure if this was a mercy or proof that the wizard didn't think he was worthy of a response. He simply touched his chest lightly. The moment he did Ray could feel relief spreading through him like cold water over a terrible burn. The chains were removed, and he relaxed.

"Isn't that better?" Rosana purred, now running her hands through his hair as Telago did his work. "Doesn't this make the pain worth it? You can always rely on the pain to go away as long as you trust me when I'm hurting you."

"It is good. Thank you so much, Rosana," Ray hiccuped, but the moment her name left his lips he cried out painfully, the lash going across his face and leaving a bloody gouge. She snapped her fingers, and Telago immediately healed it so there would be no traces left behind of what she had done.

"When you are down here and we're playing this game you will call me nothing other than Master Corivan. Is that understood?" She snapped, and he nodded. The lash hit the wall beside his head, and he cried out, startled.

"Understood," he cried, realizing she wanted an audible response.

She smiled, caressing his chest after, a quiet laugh spilling from her lips as she told him, "I'm so glad we're on the same page now. It was rather tedious beforehand. I want you to know that there is nowhere in this whole world that will heighten you to any higher order than here. No one loves you more than I do, and so you may as well consider yourself condemned if you ever consider leaving."

He felt strangely frightened, but not at the idea of not being able to leave. "Please don't say that," he whimpered. "Please don't imply that I would want to be anywhere other than in your arms, Master Corivan. I don't want to be alone again."

She held him as he slid down the wall into the stool that was set for him, running her hands through his hair as she told him, "As long as you do as I say and promise always to adore me I will never send you away. You are very precious to me, Ray, and it's very important that I know that you won't betray me."

"I promise," he choked out, tears running down his face and she smiled. She kissed his cheek lightly. His sobbing grew quieter until he finally slipped into unconsciousness.

"You're going to ruin him," Telago told her. "There are better uses for him than this."

"I don't see any better uses for him. He will be useful to me as long as he's under my control and loyal," she told him. "Does it matter if he's ruined after? What do I care what happens to him after he's no longer mine?"

"You should care, my Lady Corosia. If you keep destroying everything around you, you're going to find yourself with nothing or worse," Volbert told her matter of factly.

"No matter what you say about it, I don't really care. If I end up destroying everything around me I should expect that I'll be destroyed as well. What does it matter if there's nothing left of me after if I'm no longer around to see it?" She scoffed.

"I suppose I shouldn't expect you to see the value in others at this point. You killed your own father and fiance before. I can't imagine you wouldn't do it again if given the chance," he sighed, staring at Ray, and grimacing as he studied the network of scars left on his chest even after he had taken the time to heal him.

"Don't say that as if you or anyone else had any love for either of those men. My father was greedy and murderous just like I am, as well as responsible for killing his wife, and my fiance was a weak-minded fool who only wanted one thing out of me other than money," she answered.

"Don't think I'm criticizing you, per se. I just want to understand how other people think now and again. It just all seems rather whimsical," he replied, "such as how you can mock a man for wanting something that you give so freely now."

"And what wasn't whimsical about teaching Ray how to perform magic? I don't see how it could possibly benefit you in the end," she retorted. "It seems you are looking out for him more than you let on."

"Well," he answered. "If you and I can't have our alone time anymore, and you're going to put all your energy into sculpting a self-proclaimed Zamorakian with the mentality of a child mixed with a hardened killer as well as an abuse magnet then I may as well invest a bit in it as well. If things go wrong I would prefer to be on the side of the helper rather than the side of the antagonizer." He shrugged. "It's all very impersonal to me."

She rolled her eyes and stared at Ray. He noticed how her fingers seemed to trace his scars as well, her head tilting just a bit, a frown creasing her lips.

"And what does that look mean, may I ask?" He said, his eyebrows raised, his voice as monotone as ever.

"Do you think he thinks of the last one who hurt him? Do you think it would have been easier if he hadn't been broken at all when he arrived here? Maybe things would have been better if he was a better man arriving here, and not someone else's used up scrap. Maybe things could have been different this time around," she sighed.

"I don't believe he would have made it here in the form he's taken if he was," Volbert told her simply. "I doubt he would have stood for the way you've treated him if he was already aware that there was something better for him to begin with."

"You're always so blunt," she answered.

"I have to be, really. I don't see the point in being otherwise. What kind of man do you think would stay here under these conditions otherwise?" He said.

"You stayed, didn't you?" She answered. "What does that make you then?"

"I will always have a choice in the matter no matter what you choose to do. There isn't an instant in which you will have more power than me even when I surrender power to you," he answered simply. "Being humbled by someone that wouldn't have the power to otherwise is almost gratifying."

"And I suppose I feel the same when it comes to Ray. If not for the things he has suffered prior to me finding him he would never be in my complete control. Now, however, there's nothing he can hope to do to escape my influence," she told him.

"I hope you enjoy it when while it lasts," Volbert snorted. "All things come to an end one way or the other."


	12. Ball

Ray couldn't stop thinking about his relationship with Lady Corivan. He wanted to justify that because he could leave he was just as much responsible. She kept him with her because she loved him.

The times when she hurt him was to show him just how much she loved and cared for him.

He shook his head, not wanting to think about it any longer. He went to the docks where Hayden had told him that he would be able to pick up the specific spices he needed, special spices that they wouldn't be selling in the town square. Ray gripped the piece of paper he was given tightly, to make sure he didn't lose it. He had assured the chef that he would definitely remember what he was supposed to pick up if he would only tell him what he needed. Hayden had rolled his eyes at him, listing them off even as he wrote them down on a paper for Ray.

After the first couple, Ray already looked ready to have a heart attack, and Hayden rolled his eyes again and finished the note, tucking it into his hand. "Just give the man this, and make sure not to stand too close to the edge of the dock, lad. Your head is already washed up as it is."

He chuckled as he recalled this, smiling a bit. He felt comfortable talking to him, despite how he snarled and gnashed his teeth at Ray whenever he caught him lingering in the kitchen for too long. He knew the chef liked him just as much.

A man on the dock called out to Ray, and he immediately got the feeling that this man wasn't a mere sailor by his silky garb and posture. He gave him a curious look, and the man said, "I said, are you lost, young man? You seem not to know where you are."

"Oh, sorry," Ray replied, appearing a bit nervous now. "I'm just here to find a merchant selling spices. Would you happen to be one of those or someone that knows one?"

"Spices?" He replied with his mouth quirked, "yes, that's one of the things that I happen to have. Tell me, young man, what you're looking for?"

Ray felt uneasy and considered disengaging from him. It didn't seem as if they were speaking the same language, and he didn't want to end up coming back with something that wasn't what he was sent out to get. He would certainly never hear the end of it if he did. Even so, he felt like if he alienated himself from this man he might not be able to pick up what he was looking for at all. He hesitantly offered the note, explaining, "I'm here to pick these up for my house's chef. Do you think you have these?"

"My, how long is your hair? I rarely see a man with hair as long as yours here in Ardougne. I wear mine in this nice braid," he said in a sort of chatty way as he looked over the note, but Ray felt like his eyes were snaking over him as well.

"Do you have what I need, or should I look elsewhere?" Ray asked him, not wanting the subject to encompass him.

"Tom Hayden?" The man said suddenly, seeing the name at the bottom of the note. "Oh! I didn't expect him to send someone else this time around, but it's hardly a problem at all. Not even the slightest problem. He's getting on in years, yes sir. Can't blame him. Don't even worry about it. Just wait here for an hour or so, and I ought to have his order ready. We have a running tab so just hold on to that gold of yours." He then turned and hurried away and left Ray standing there.

He was normally very patient, but there was a sort of anxiousness about him now. He was starting to wonder if the man would actually return at all, and he got the strangest feeling that his goal was merely to take his precious note from him. He knew he wouldn't be able to remember a single thing on that note and the sense of horror was beginning to rise in his chest at the thought of trying to get the spices without it, or worse, returning with nothing to show for his efforts. He was certain that Chef Hayden would never ask him for help ever again if he did.

After a moment of standing there, a ball rolled up and landed beside his foot. He looked down at it for a moment until a boy nearby called out to him. "Pass it back, mister!"

He stared at him for a moment before giving the ball a light kick in his direction. After it rolled past, the boy sighed in exasperation. "Are you blind or something, mister?" Ray merely laughed awkwardly in response.

It wasn't long before this happened again, and then again, and each time Ray did a better job of getting the ball where it needed to be. After the fourth time he finally told him and his friends that were playing with it, "Think you guys could be a bit more careful? It doesn't bother me, but I don't want it to go over the docks. I don't think I could get it back to you then."

"Then why don't you come play with us for a bit, guy? I didn't even know you knew how to talk until now. It's got to be better than standing there, waiting for Stevo to bring your thing back," he responded with a grin.

Ray looked nervously in the direction the man went, and then back toward the boy. "Well, what if I miss him?"

"Do you want to play with us or not?" The boy asked impatiently. "Look, mister. We hang around the dock all the time. We'll tell you when he's back, and then you can go do your adult stuff, alright?"

Ray looked nervously back at the docks but finally nodded. He needed something to take his mind off his problems, and he didn't see any harm in it.

Ray, after he went with them, found that he loved playing with the ball. Sometimes he just liked chasing after it when it got away. The children didn't seem to mind or think anything of it. They seemed delighted, in fact, as they didn't have to get it themselves. It wasn't long before they knew that he really was blind, and it became a sort of game to try to figure out how to exploit that as it was rather impressive how well he knew where everything was despite his blindness.

"Hey, Ray," one of the girls playing with him told him. "The hour is almost up. You better get back to the docks."

"Thanks," he replied with a grin, though he still felt like playing a bit longer. He decided that his work was still a bit more important, and so he waved and went on his way.

Once he returned to the dock 'Stevo' gave him what he came here for, and smiled as he looked him over. "You cut quite a figure, young man. There are a lot of people that would want a man like you. Why don't you come back in about an hour, after delivering those herbs? There's something else that I think old Hayden will want that I couldn't fit in the bag. It's on the house, of course."

Ray nodded uneasily, taking the bag, and the man added, "And don't tell him. It's going to be a surprise. You know it's going to be his birthday in a couple of days, don't you?"

"I didn't know that," Ray responded in wonder, and the man just smiled. It was likely to show off the golden tooth on the right side of his mouth.

Once he got back to the manor, he gave the chef what he was sent out for. He was glad to be rid of it, as it choked him up the longer he carried it.

"You did a good job, Ray. How about a reward?" Hayden told him, and he beamed, but then paused for a moment. "Hold on, I need to take care of something. Would you mind giving it to me once I return?"

"Of course, Ray, but you better understand that if you take too long I likely won't remember that I was going to give you anything to begin with," he told him sternly.

"I shouldn't take long," Ray answered with a grin, and Hayden nodded suspiciously as Ray took off once again.

On his way back to the docks one of the kids from earlier threw the ball to him, and he caught it. They whooped excitedly, surprised that he was able to sense it like he was. He held on to the ball, giving them a pained look as he explained, "I have to pick something else up. I'm sorry, but I can't play right now."

"Oh, come on, Ray!" One of them called to him. "It can wait. Play with us!"

A low whine built in his throat, only loud enough for him to hear as he glanced at the dock, but then he nodded and passed the ball back. "I think I have a bit of time."

After that, however, he was caught. He couldn't stop himself from playing with them until it had gotten dark and they had to go home. He returned feeling a bit better, a bit more in control and content. He was worried someone would get upset at him for being out so long, but no one did.

After that, he made it a habit to seek the children out to play with them, and for a time it was good. However, the more he did this the more he found they were trying to avoid him.

After a while, the first boy that met him gave him a pained look.

"What is it?" Ray asked, feeling perturbed as he tried to chase away that feeling of despair that was creeping in.

"You're a grown man, Ray. Don't you have anything better to do?" He asked.

Ray, at first, looked to the other children with a sense of irritation, expecting them to vouch for him, but he realized after a moment that they too agreed with their leader. _Didn't he have anything better to do?_ It dawned on him that childhood wasn't something he could just get back as he slunk away, answering, "You're probably right. I think I do."

He was also filled with guilt at the fact that he had forgotten to get the second package for Hayden, though the chef had never mentioned it. He went to the docks, wondering if the merchant was there, but there was no sign of him. Not even a whiff of his expensive perfume. He felt worse but then went to the town square to buy Hayden a doughnut. They were his favorite, but he could never manage to make them just right.

"What's this for, Ray?" Hayden asked as the man dejectedly entered his kitchen and offered it to him.

"Your birthday," Ray answered quietly.

"My birthday?" He replied incredulously. "Ray, that isn't for another few months. What gave you the idea?"

"What? The merchant that I got the spices from told me it was your birthday this month. Told me to come back to get you something that day, but I forgot, and now I can't find him."

Chef Hayden grew quiet for a moment before the lines on his face hardened, and he told Ray sternly, "I don't want you going to the docks anymore." He then took the doughnut and shooed Ray from the kitchen, though Ray found a cookie in his pocket after.  
He didn't see the children much after that. He found he didn't have time anymore.


	13. Prostitution

Ray walked beside Lady Corivan with a sort of cold nobility, his suit neat and clean and his eyes dutifully forward as they walked home together late at night. Her arms wrapped around his, smiling contently as she knew that he was under her control and hers wholly. She paused, and her lip curled as she caught sight of something that displeased her, and Ray physically stiffened, concerned, his eyes turning to study her before following her sharp eyes to the cause of her irritation.

There he saw a woman working the corner, and his first thought was that she might be cold. It was particularly nippy, and she was wearing a short dress, her legs having nothing but stockings protecting them. He looked back at Lady Corivan, and her words were bitter and cutting, her tone scathing, "I absolutely hate those women that sell themselves. It's absolutely disgusting."

"What choice do they have, my Lady?" Ray replied carefully, uncomfortably as he looked back at the prostitute with a sort of uncertainty. He noticed that his master had stopped their progress, and that she had them standing back enough to get a good view of the working woman, but for her not to have a chance to take notice of them. His blood grew colder and colder as he took in Lady Corivan's predatory expression as she glared at the stray woman.

"They could do the world a favor and simply die," she answered. "They're obviously not able to keep themselves alive with any sense of dignity. They should just die and be done with it instead of prolonging their suffering in this disgusting world and encouraging others to partake in their filthy work. Not to mention the diseases they spread."

Ray tilted his head, having no idea what to think of this. He personally had taken little notice to the night workers prior to her pointing this one out. He knew they existed and knew what they did, but he really didn't care one way or another. They had been in Varrock as well, but he had no reason to care one way or another.

"Ray," Lady Corivan continued thoughtfully, slowly, "Why don't we do this one a favor, shall we?"

"A favor?" He replied. He knew that the highest reason for prostitution was desperation, and an inability to gain other work, but he couldn't imagine what she had in mind. Something told him that she wasn't intent on helping her in the way that he thought she might be able to.

"That's right, Ray," Lady Corivan replied, glancing at him. "I want you to assure that she is no longer breathing by the end of the night, and I want you to locate their nest." The moment he started to shake his head at her she pulled him closer by his golden collar, whispering in his ear, "You love me, don't you, Ray?"

"Of course I do," he choked back, his eyes wide and horrified.

"And you want to please me?" She answered. "You want to be useful to me?"

"I would do anything," he replied, his voice hushed, his heart racing in terror.

"Then I want you to do as I say and exterminate them for me. I want you to make every woman that dares to sell herself in my city bleed. Consider it a service to both them and me. They're better off dead, Ray, and everyone else will be better of for their deaths as well. Do you understand, Ray?"

He nodded hastily, glancing over at where the prostitute was standing, and then back into those intense eyes, wondering if she wanted him to do it outright here and now. She smiled wickedly as if reading his thoughts.

"I know you're capable and wise, Ray. That's why I'm going to insist that you be careful and you be smart about all of this. The moment it's discovered to be you that's doing the killings I doubt there will be anywhere in this city where you'll be safe. The guards, the other nobles, the criminals and every son of a bitch in between will want your head the more you cleanse this city of their entertainment, and these women often work for companies and dangerous men that prioritize keeping them safe," Corivan told him. "That's why for this one we're going to bring her home, and we're going to get every bit of information we can from her, and then we're going to burn her rotten corpse and take advantage of the squeals she made while dying."

Ray nodded in complete and utter horror, teeth chattering.

She then added, still whispering in his ear, "Bring her back to the manor, and everything will be set up by the time you get there. She gave his chest an encouraging pat and then left him standing there, noticeably not going anywhere near the woman. He went over what he was told a few times as he was walking over.

"Excuse me, miss. You seem a bit cold," he commented, not knowing what else to say. He had never been the one to do the asking.

She gave him a toothy grin, and he realized that she was missing a few of her front teeth, but he decided that it would be impolite to comment on it. She replied, "Well I'd be a lot warmer with a bit of company for the night and a bit of coin, won't I?"

He smiled hesitantly and replied a bit coyly, "Well that would certainly be a solution. Perhaps I'll bite."

The woman cackled with delight as she said, "A bit red-faced, aren't ya? Never done this before or are you a plain virgin?"

"I'm assuredly not," he answered coldly, and she raised her hands to assuage him.

"No need to raise your hackles, handsome. You just don't look like the sort to be wandering about at night. You look like a right philosophical or somethin' actually. Kinda cute." She gave him another broad smile, and he felt his insides melting, though more from guilt than anything. He couldn't figure out why he felt like he was on the verge of tears as he unconsciously scratched at his arms.

"Right, well maybe. I guess I just need to loosen up a bit, you know? I'm actually a guard for a very high-ranking house, and I don't get a lot of time to, uh, relieve myself," he was surprised he was speaking at all at this point.

"Oh, don't worry. You'll be nice and loosened up alright, and I'll even give those nice muscles a rub down. Have any scars, fella?" She purred.

"Why don't you take a look for yourself," he said with a sudden smoothness, with what he hoped to be a charming smile when he offered his arm. "You'll get a good long look, won't you?"

She cackled as she took his arm, and he was a bit shocked at how cold she actually was, and he pulled her a bit closer to warm her. She seemed ready to protest, but his body heat kept her in place. He felt another wave of misgivings run down his spine, but he continued to lead her along.

"Where are we heading, fella?" She asked, and he smirked at her.

"Ever heard of Corivan Manor?" He continued and tried to pretend that he was shivering from the cold. He was humming quietly, happily, as if pleased that he had found someone at this hour. Really he was removing any spells that she might have on her so that they wouldn't be easily tracked going forward if anyone owned her.

She giggled and replied, not noticing what he was doing, "A mysterious type. Those folks don't typically leave their big house. The woman running it is a real spook."

He laughed and nodded, though he felt a bit agitated at that, a bit defensive. He was relieved when they finally arrived, taking a route that would disorient her and make anyway that might be watching lose the trail.

The moment they entered the manor he gasped in pain, feeling as if all the air was being knocked out of him, but the woman on his arm fared worse, sliding off and collapsing on the floor and twitching spastically. He was initially alarmed until he realized that she was merely stunned.

"I couldn't hit her without hitting you as well, but it was only glancing," Volbert told him casually as he walked over, brushing him off a bit as he studied the woman on the floor. "Pick her up, and we'll go. I would hate to keep Lady Corosia waiting for much longer."

He grunted, not at all convinced that he couldn't have cleanly knocked her out without hitting him, but didn't say anything as he did as he was told and followed behind him.

He could feel his pulse racing as they started down the stairs, the woman whimpering quietly though unable to move. He knew what was down here and it never boded well for him when he himself was required in these lower levels. He felt his heart pounding erratically.

Volbert seemed to take no notice of his nervous behavior, as steadfast and unfeeling as ever. As they reached the bottom of the stairs and Volbert led him through a narrow hallway where he was careful to not let the woman's head or limbs hit the wall he started to feel unnaturally calm. His heart only began to speed again once he was led through the door and into the chamber beyond where Lady Corivan stood with a white lab coat and a number of sharp tools at her disposal.

"Ray, will you strap her down for me? Preferably before she starts struggling?" She asked plainly, and he stared at her in horror. He felt terrified of everything in this room, and the idea of coming anywhere close to the table and setting it up himself made him feel weak in the stomach. She glared at him and told him, her voice icy, "Don't make me ask you again." To add emphasis she snapped a leather strip against the table and it cracked loudly. This startled Ray into motion and he quickly did as he was told, laying the woman on the table and tightening the straps around her arms and legs with shaking hands.

"What do you think you're doing to me? We haven't even discussed the price," she cried, trying to get a bearing for what was happening.

Lady Corivan had little patience for this, leaning in close and whispering, "Your payment will be the two gold coins we leave on your eyes if there happens to be anything left."

The prostitute whimpered, and Lady Corivan smiled grimly as she watched her thrash. Ray was shaking heavily now, backing up until his back was against the far wall. He started to cover his ears as Lady Corivan stabbed her scalpel into the woman's abdomen, and the woman shrieked. There were intervals in which it was silent, or nearly silent, as they exchanged words.

And Ray, watching them, felt a strange feeling building in his belly and chest. He bared his teeth the longer he watched, and as she was nearly done Lady Corivan took note.

"Something wrong, Ray? You seem tense," she told him. She cut slowly and methodically now, keeping her eyes on him all the while. She then smirked as she saw the way he was watching her, the scalpel, and the table. The look in his eyes no longer was fear but something else entirely, his fists opening and closing.

"Ray, if you're jealous you should have said so. I know this place is yours, and so I'll share this with you," she told him, her voice a low purr as she turned the blade around and offered him the handle.

At first, he simply stared at her. He then stepped forward, and reached out to take the knife. He stared down at the woman on the table, barely alive, tears and blood running down her face, and he felt in control for a change. The scalpel bit deeply.


	14. Justify

At the start is was simple enough for Ray. He just had to do a bit of talking and luring, and simple spell dispersal. It was rather easy, and he was often told that he was handsome and charming, and it was often as simple as talking candidly. After only a few nights of this, however, things started becoming a bit more complicated little by little. The spells became more complicated to dispel without being noticed, the women were becoming wearier, more careful, probing with their questions. Ray, however, seemed to know exactly what to do, precisely what to say. With each kill he felt a swelling of pride, and there was no shortage of praise from Lady Corivan whenever he would return after a night of this. He had a spell that would assure there would be no body and no trace of what had happened. He would teleport their bodies back to the household and they would either be finished off there or burned at the end of the night.  
Once she realized how efficient Ray could be at this game, she was more than willing to let him take the prerogative about killing. Lady Corivan watched with great intrigue as he slipped through the streets like the red death. He seemed to instinctively know not to kill too much in one area, and so he had a bit more time in picking off the individuals than he would have had otherwise. Soon, however, they were starting to take to groups, but he found he was particularly good at starting tension between them, setting them against each other.  
He was doing so between two prostitutes that glared at each other on either side of him. He appeared lofty, unconcerned, as he repeated, "I can't imagine how I could possibly decide between the two of you, but I have a rather deep coin purse. Perhaps I could have you both tonight, and whoever is more impressive I'll have regularly. Though…perhaps neither of you are worth my time."  
He made a great show of raising his nose and turning about, and practically preened as he felt a hand reaching toward him to stop him, but the other grabbed that hand to stop her, snipping, "Who says we need this smooth talker. For a guy that talks so damned much you'd think we'd know all about you, but not a one knows you, mister coin purse."  
Ray merely turned back only halfway and looked her over casually. She seemed rather confident as if she knew this work well and he felt somewhat worried, but not overly. "Well, I came from Varrock. Not much different, though the whores were less mouthy." He snorted dismissively. "You know, I think perhaps I'll just keep my coin in Varrock, really."

"There's no need to be hasty, mister," the other one said quickly, her eyes wide and horrified as if she could practically smell the money on him. He decided that she wasn't as worldly and her desperation made his stomach turn, though he couldn't figure out if it was pity or derision.

 _These women are a plague. A woman brought so low doesn't deserve to be a woman at all. A woman forced to simper and beg wasn't worth the breath in her lungs. They're merely sows, livestock, and they need to be slaughtered before they go feral._

Ray appeared doubtful when Lady Corivan had told him that. Wasn't he himself merely a beggar? He didn't believe he had any more right to live than them even if he happened to be better off, but it had shown on his face and she gave him that look that reminded him that she had no patience for his sympathy.

 _Do you think they wouldn't kill you if put in your position? What does it matter, really? Don't you want a bit of retribution of your own? Aren't you tired of being pushed around, Ray?_

Ray smiled and faced them again, though his smile was thick with bile and irritation as he replied, "Then why don't I speak with your master? The one that makes sure you women are well kept? Then I'll decide whether or not my business will extend to Ardougne."

The older one was crossing her arms in disgust, but the younger one was practically taking Ray's arm. "Oh yes. Mister Damien will love to tell you all sorts of things. He's real smart, and he'll make sure we see eye to eye."  
"I sure hope so," Ray replied languidly as he let her lead him along. He appeared overly bored as if he didn't believe a word of it, and that made her desperation for him to meet this man that apparently knew how to convince him all the more prevalent. He took note of their location and had already set a spell to make sure that there was a trail he could follow to get back out, and to find this place again. He knew as they went that this was meant to disorient him, the way she was leading him, the way that the older one was correcting her path from time to time as if to remind her not to take the direct route. His spell would show him the direct route out immediately if he needed it.

The place she led him to was an out of the way alley, with a dark door that anyone could just walk right by without a second thought if they somehow ended up walking this way. It was practically a hole in an otherwise unnoticeable wall. Ray, however, wouldn't have missed it even if these two weren't taking him to it. There was a particular pungent scent to it that stood out to his sensitive nose, like want and drugs. He felt his fists ball up in agitation, but the next moment he forced his hands to relax and his crinkled nose to smooth. They couldn't smell it. They were already apart of the smell, and so it wouldn't stand out to them at all.

"Here we are, mister. Let me just knock, let him know that we're—"  
Ray cut her off mid-sentence, pushing forward and pulling the door open. There were at least three chain locks, but he had slid them out of the way simply with his magic. The older woman gaped and started grabbing at him, trying to pull him away from the door, but he didn't seem to take any notice, striding in without a second thought. They looked at each other, and then to him, and dread filled them as they realized what kind of person they had brought back.

"Get off me! Get off!" A man could be heard hissing in the back room, from behind a few curtains, and it was clear that he was angry and alarmed. He had felt Ray's magical influence, and it wasn't common for his whores to return this early in the night, let alone get in on their own. He was buttoning his pants, red in the face when he walked out, but the moment he was in front of Ray, he was all smiles and charm.

"What kind of gentlemen did you bring back here, ladies?" He hummed. "I don't normally have visitors like yourself."  
"Please forgive me for the intrusion," Ray replied with a sort of grin, his yellow eyes seeming to reflect the dim light eerily. "I'm just a good boy from old Varrock in the east, and I wanted to assure that what I was getting was top notch."  
He bowed deeply, mockingly, and the man's face twisted in anger at Ray's obvious mockery. He nodded for the nearest woman, and the moment she placed his cane in his hand he raised it and brought it down to Ray's head with sudden rage. Ray had seemed to keep his bow the entire time as if waiting for him in a sort of satire of submission, but the moment the cane came down Ray was in motion, seeming to sense it a second early, darting around it.  
The cane cracked loudly against the floor, and the man stumbled a bit, not expecting his strike to be carried any further than where Ray's head had been. Ray's fist struck solidly in the center of his neck, and he gagged and stumbled back. Ray's sword sprang to his hand, and he leaped at the young woman that led him here and tore out her stomach with one deft flick. She didn't even realize what had happened, and neither did the older woman as she stared in wide-eyed horror, not yet able to comprehend what was happening. Ray, however, suffered no such hesitation as he was upon her a well, smiling as if to reward her for being correct in her assumptions about him, before sliding his sword through her neck.  
And then there was a moment of sick panic that rose up in his stomach as he registered what he was doing and recognized the carnage as the scent of blood seeped into his nose. He was frozen for a moment, trying to get his bearing. The man struck him with his cane, weakly, his hands still shaking from the strike he had taken, and this was enough to arouse Ray's ire and bloodlust once more, and he turned with a snarl and tore into the man with abandon, striking him again and again. After he was satisfied, long after the man was dead, Ray sprang away and like a hunter slinked deeper into the nest with sort of eerie silence. He was like a red shadow, seeking more red to fuel his form.

A woman had come out to see what the noise was, and he could tell that she was one of the two that had been sleeping with the man by her scent. His teeth showed for a moment in what was meant to be disgust, but it came across as a broad, horrific smile and the next moment he was slashing her heart and lungs out. The other woman caught sight of him, blood draining from her face as she shrieked in horror. He growled angrily, knowing that the other would be alerted, and lunged at her.  
She scrambled off the bed, falling on the floor in a tangle of stained sheets, and Ray fell upon her, raising his sword to slash through her, but he didn't expect her to fight back. A knife that he overlooked was in her hand, and she slid it across his chest. He roared angrily, and his teeth sank into her wrist.  
"Please, please," she gasped as he settled atop her, one hand on her chest to hold her down. He merely growled, his jaw tightening around her wrist until there was the audible crack of bones breaking. She gave a muffled scream a moment before he cracked her skull with the hilt of his sword, though she was already bleeding out.  
He then used a spell to trace everyone that was still in the building, using both this and his sense of smell to track them. He killed them, one by one, room by room, with deadly efficiency. He wouldn't give them the opportunity to attack him again, the scratch he was given burning and further fueling his hatred. It made it easier to justify his actions this way.

It then came to his attention that someone had slipped past him and out the door, the last one, and a low growl emanated from the depths of his chest as he changed to his wolf form and darted back toward the door, the scent of blood and carnage speeding his paws.  
The woman that had escaped thought she was safe the moment she had fled the building, slowly moving toward the main street. She didn't want her pursuer, if he knew to look for her out here, to see her in the shadowy alleyway, but she didn't realize that he relied on anything but his eyes. Out here the air was comparably clean and clear, and so it would be easier for Ray to find her.  
Not that it would matter even if she had stayed inside.  
She was nearly there, nearly to where she would be exposed to the sights and sounds of the open street, but Ray was now upon her, his teeth sinking into the back of her neck carrying her to the ground. She didn't even have time to scream as he broke her neck like a rabbit. The taste of blood and the sensation of the kill had him at the mercy of his instincts as he tore into her and feasted until he was full.  
He then came back to his senses, and a sick horror filled him, overwhelming nausea seizing him as he vomited a few feet away from her remains. He trembled, knowing he wasn't finished. Not by far. He was glad that he was also taught a spell that would allow him to teleport these bodies so he wouldn't have to carry them. There couldn't be any remains, any sign that this was a heinous act of murder or any reason for the guard to expect them.


	15. This Fire

Once Corivan realized how effective Ray was as a tool for killing her enemies his time in the manor became more about the killing and less about being a guard or a companion of Rosana, though there were some nights in which she was particularly keen on keeping his company. Otherwise, he would spend most days sleeping. She would even insist on it many days, and he would eat a little before he was sent out, and quite a bit when he returned with the milk in the morning.

His demeanor seemed to change as well. He became harder to be around, harder to talk to, and Corivan seemed to take note. At first, she thought it was a good thing, but the more he started to grow distant the more she seemed disturbed by the change.

"Ray," she said to him, coolly and carefully. "I'm going to the theater tonight, my dear. Will you accompany me? There's no one I trust more with my protection. I know you're likely tired, but the only other is Telago, and he's certainly not a fan of the higher arts. He won't be able to hold a conversation about anything we've seen."

Ray stared at her blankly. He didn't really understand what she was saying about him. Lately he hadn't felt so capable of such higher talk himself. His mouth tasted like bile and his tongue felt dull, but he answered with a sort of nervous hesitation, not wanting to disappoint her, "I suppose I can take a break for the night."

"I'm so glad," she told him, smiling sweetly at him. "It isn't often that we get to have one of these outings together lately."

He nodded quietly, staring past her. She was visibly bothered, her lips pursing, her eyes narrowing, but she didn't say anything as she told him, "Go on, then. Make sure to get ready. I'm sure Mr. Bityn has something ready for you."

He nodded, going to find him. It had been quite a while since he had seen the man, who was considerably young but with plenty of experience in tailoring and thus a sort of superiority in demeanor knowing that he was preferred by Lady Corivan in the way of clothes, she being particularly fond of elegant clothing. Lately, she had been interested in larger, fluffier dresses that hid her form.

The last time he had measured Ray he had been rather open about his opinion of him and about ordering him around, but this time he seemed almost modest, almost afraid even as Ray stared blankly ahead, unaware of how he was coming across. Ray seemed colder than the last time, more distance, more calculated and even cruel, and Mr. Bityn didn't know how to speak to him anymore, though Ray didn't feel all that different, at least not in this instance. Even so, he responded to Mr. Bityn in annoyed grunts rather than words and showed his displeasure whenever there were any malfunctions with a wrinkled nose or grumble rather than speech.

"There we are, Ray," Mr. Bityn told him hesitantly. "A nice black suit. Do you like it?" He nervously directed him to the nearby mirror.

Ray started to smile when he observed himself, finding he looked rather slick in the suit, but the moment he took his face in his smile melted away.

"You don't like it?" the tailor asked, his voice trying to stay steady.

"I love it," he answered solemnly, feeling sick as he stared into that harsh face, tinged with a thin beard. "I think it looks great."

Mr. Bityn opened his mouth, intending to tell him that if he really didn't like it he didn't have to say he did, but he simply closed his mouth, not wanting to upset him. "Very good, then. Be sure to come back if you happen to change your mind before you leave."

"Thank you," Ray answered uncomfortably, glancing at him strangely before rushing from the room, not knowing how to handle how he was behaving around him.

"You look dashing," Lady Corivan told him with a warm smile, taking his arm.

"Thank you, Rosana," Ray answered simply, nodding slowly and she nodded in return, appearing pleased. Even so, he didn't say anything the entire time they were walking to the theater, and she felt a tinge of irritated, but she let it go. After they arrived she had a specific place reserved for them, and like with the last gathering there was a sea of masks and quiet talking that together seemed to form a dull roar. She had her own overhanging platform that was exclusive to her and Ray.

"So much easier to see the stage from up here, don't you think, Ray? Have you ever been to any sort of event like this before?" She asked.

He merely grunted, but when he took note of how she seemed to grow bothered by his response, corrected himself almost grudgingly. "I typically didn't have time for this sort of thing beforehand, or money, really."

"I suppose that's true," she said, "but recently they've made it rather affordable for both rich and poor to attend, though certainly, you won't have to worry about anything like that in the future, my dear Ray."

"Yes, I suppose not," he replied, though he hadn't intended to reply verbally at all. He only corrected himself again when he noted how she was watching him. He felt his stomach roiling, the sound of the voices below already making him feel sick and agitated. He could only imagine that she pitied him in some way, that she thought there was something wrong with him now when he was exactly what she wanted from him. He was her loyal servant, partner, and tool and he felt agitated with how she seemed to be acting like his behavior was annoying her.

He felt relieved the moment the curtain opened and the people around him started to grow quiet in anticipation of the show, how she no longer seemed interested in talking or expecting him to talk in return. He simply watched the stage, but he felt further disturbed. He didn't expect to see them, but he could hear them clearly. He knew the words they were saying and could make them out as clear and precise sentences, but he also couldn't comprehend any of it. He had no idea what they were talking about and he glanced at Lady Corivan many times to see if she too was having trouble, but nothing seemed to be bothering her.

And when the play was over Ray started to feel his pulse quicken as a guard stepped on stage and smiled darkly at each and every one of them. He couldn't see the smile himself, but he could feel it in the man's tone. That sort of scoffing expression that he always knew guards to wear before they were going to kick at him when he was sleeping on the road or were going to spit in his face or imply that he was promiscuous. He felt hot bile raising in his throat, remembering these things from when he was a woman. Why did he deserve anymore dignity as he was, as a servant in a well-known household, as a secret murderer?

"Now there have been many reports of certain people going missing. At the start we weren't overly concerned as this sort of thing tends to happen to their class, from time to time, but the more people going missing, the more I'm starting to believe that it's no longer an isolated occurrence, but very likely an act of serialized, organized murders," he addressed the crowd. There was a series of loud, angry complaints, hisses, and jeers, especially from those that knew exactly what he was referring to.

Lady Corivan noticed how Ray seemed to bristle beside her, and how he seemed to sit up and stiffen at his words. She laid her hand on his knee and told him softly, lovingly, "There are no signs that are pointing at us, dear Ray. Settle down. They won't ever find us."

He didn't seem to be calmed by her words or promises. He seemed on edge, and more now, his teeth grinding quietly.

"And we of Ardougne are civilized people, aren't we? We don't allow such crimes like this to happen in our fair city," the head guard continued. "That's why when we find the person responsible for these disappearances we're going to hang them up for everyone to see what kind of person they really are. I imagine they think they're wielding a pair of steel, but they'll be nothing more than an empty, black and blue corpse when we're through with them." The cheers were deafening once he finished, and Lady Corivan chuckled, finding it quite amusing when she was so confident that they had no chance at all of catching their killer. She didn't care to hear anymore, and so she stood and led Ray away. Ray, however, seemed to stop her halfway.

"Go on ahead," he told her simply. "I have to take care of something." She looked surprised for a moment but noticed how his hand was on his pants, and his foot seemed to jump in agitation. He looked a bit embarrassed, not wanting to say it directly.

"Oh, of course," she replied. "I'll be waiting for you on the road just ahead."

He nodded gravely, telling her, "Be sure to be safe. I would hate if something were to happen to you during a lapse in my watching over you."

She seemed rather proud, smiling at him, charmed by his sudden need to act protective. "I'll be sure to be careful for your sake, Ray." She then went ahead.

The moment she was gone he seemed to grow absolutely serious, his jaw set. He backtracked a bit and found a side door where there was a narrow hallway. He followed it with a sense of claustrophobia, unsure of where it would lead him but feeling it would show him the way to where he needed to be. Once he reached the end, he found himself in a room with all sorts of props and other such things and knew this was exactly what he needed.

He went and found crates with straw lining the bottom which he knew was typically used to pack the crates tight and keep the contents safe and dry. He was pleased to find that the wood of the crates seemed rather dry as well. He made a sort of woven nest with the contents in the bottom, and once he was satisfied with what he had made he lit the contents. He waited patiently at first, making sure that it was adequately lit, and once he was absolutely certain he fled, knowing that once the fire escaped its container the whole place would soon be ablaze. He felt immediately terrified the moment he entered the hallway, already imagining that he could feel the heat behind him. He sped up and shifted so that he could run faster in wolf form. He didn't change back to his human form again until once he was back out in the streets.

Afterward, he walked coolly and calmly toward where Lady Corivan was standing. She smiled at him at first, before she noticed the smoke that was starting to rise from the theater and began to hear the screams of those still within. She looked past him, back at him, and then past him again, her voice low with fury as she asked, "Did you do that?"

"Have you ever considered?" Ray hissed, his teeth bared with each word, the growing glow of the burning theater showing on his face, "That the whores of this world aren't merely in the lower class, but need to be purged from all wakes of society?"

She stared at him, horrified at first, and then she could see her horror turn to outrage as she screamed, "Do you think this is some kind of game, Ray?"

"I think it's all some sort of game! I think this world has been tugging us all around from the day we were born, but I'm prepared to see the slate clean for a change. I'm prepared to cleanse this city of-"

His words were cut off as Corivan struck him across his face, and he grew quiet, solemn, apologetic as she murmured in his ear, "Do you think something like this won't be noticed? Do you think there won't be consequences that will chase you down? That fire will light the end of your tail, Ray, and I won't be able to do anything if it does."

He stared at her for a long moment before murmuring, "I won't do it again. I'm terribly sorry."

"Oh Ray, you will," she told him quietly, sounding cruelly patient now, "you'll do it many times more before this is over, I'm sure." She then kissed him quickly, clumsily, and walked away, knowing he would follow as always.

And he did.


	16. What Death

Ray stirred the pot slowly, staring into the thick brown broth, catching sight of the chunks of beef and potatoes from time to time, taking deep, slow breaths. Hayden cut vegetables on the other side of him, his cuts fast at times and leisurely and methodical at others. Neither of them had spoken for over an hour, not since Ray first arrived and asked if he could help and Hayden had given him a few tasks he could do, not asking why he wasn't sleeping like usual, though now dusk was fast approaching.  
Finally, Hayden spoke, his tone low as he said to Ray, "They say they saw a wolf leave the building. The one that burned down when you and Lady Corivan were out the other night."  
"There was a wolf that burned down the other night?" Ray answered casually, stirring a bit faster, not wanting to talk about it.  
"Ray, what do you think is going to happen when they find you?" Hayden asked him with a frown.  
"Well, I imagine they're going to string me up in front of everyone. They're going to beat me, and maybe they'll kill me before I even hang," he replied with a shrug, sounding unbothered until the moment Hayden swung around and hit him with the flat edge of his knife.  
"Boy, what's gotten into you lately? What has she been having you do?" Hayden seethed. "How can you speak to me like that? Like it doesn't matter?"

"She's had me kill people!" He shot back. "What do you think? It's nothing new; there's nothing special about me. What makes you think that I'm going to get away with this? When you do this kind of work for humanity, it tends to swallow you whole!"  
"Is that really what you believe?" He asked, his face red. "Do you really believe in the deeds you're doing, or do you simply believe in the person you're doing them for? I won't scorn you for the latter, but you better at least know who you're dying for if you're going to kill yourself like this."  
"I don't know who you think I am," Ray answered, his voice quavering. "I don't know what kind of person you mistake me for. Of course I believe in what I'm doing. I've always hated people. I've always wanted an opportunity to kill them."  
"But who are you killing for, Ray? Who is motivating you?" Hayden responded, crossing his arms stiffly. "What's worth giving yourself up?"  
"Giving myself up?" Ray yelled. "I had been given up a long time ago. I don't have to think about it. I know it for a fact that I'm not wanted anywhere. At least here I serve a purpose!"  
"Ray," Hayden said again, this time quieter, his voice reaching out to him, but he wasn't hearing it, walking out hurriedly. It was already late, and he had come to the kitchen because he couldn't sleep. His hands were shaking, and he couldn't focus on anything at all.  
He left the manor early before he could eat dinner. He didn't want the opportunity for anyone else to talk to him, to bother him. He had already figured out where a particular house was located the night before and he was eager to clean it out. It was out of the way, and few knew about it. For Ray, the information had come easily.

It wasn't yet dark, and though the guards had been patrolling much more lately, there was a certain time within the night in which they started to slack and abandon their routes much more. For one, it was much colder at night this time of year, and Ray was better at withstanding it than they were.  
But it wasn't the middle of the night. The dark hadn't yet fully set in, and the guards were out in full, and so Ray had trouble staying out of sight and mind. It wasn't so hard at first as there were still a few people out and he could blend in with them, but this became less viable the later it got. He had to make sure that no guards found him particularly suspicious, or at least not enough to take note of.  
He was turning a corner when he heard someone call out to him, calling for him to come over, and he knew it was a guard. There had been emphasis lately on people being stopped and searched if they were out past the new curfew that was being implemented, and this was before the theater had burned down. Now they were absolutely adamant about stopping people.

Rather than stopping, however, he sped up, and he could hear the guard calling angrily and could hear their armor clanking as they ran to catch up with him. He trotted, turning another corner just as the guard managed to catch up to the last he had turned. He heard and felt a crossbow bolt narrowly hit the wall behind him, and he grinned broadly.  
As the guard came around the corner, he thought he could see a flash of red going around the next corner, and knew that he had found his suspect. This turn wasn't too far ahead, and so he rushed around the corner and shot off another shot, knowing that at the pace he was going the man or monster would very likely still be around the next bend. His crossbow went through a window on the far end of the alleyway, and he could hear shrieking from within.  
He didn't hear Ray sneak up behind him as he walked over the red shirt to get a better look at the window he had just shot through. Ray had his overcoat draped over one arm, a thin dagger in his other hand. He knew he couldn't slip his red scimitar through the man's armor, but this worked just fine, sliding swiftly through the cracks between plates.  
Ray pulled him close and covered his mouth. He felt the mesh of chainmail underneath, but he was taught how to work the thin, needle-like dagger through this with no issue and so the man didn't even have time to cry out. The man struggled weakly for a bit longer, but Ray was sure he was already dead, but he held him anyway until the movements stopped. He then let out the breath he was holding and dropped him.  
"Good work," Ray murmured, placing his thin dagger on the ground beside him as bent over him, and Ray found himself wiping his eyes a few times even as he carefully undid his armor and looked it over, feeling it would be important for later. He stole the thin chainmail underneath, putting it on under his shirt and overcoat. He listened carefully in case a second guard came along, but he felt he was in the clear as he continued on his way, rudimentarily wiping the dagger off on the man's undershirt. "Good work."  
When he found the house, he slipped in like a fox into a henhouse. A man was sitting in the front, and it was clear he was meant to be some sort of guard by the way his sword laid over his lap. The moment Ray walked in, and he started to sit up Ray sent his head spinning away with the contempt of a child tearing the head from a toy. He grabbed the front of the bodiless corpse and eased it to the ground as he continued on his way.  
This was a place that nobles used, and so it was a noble's son that he found when he slipped in the first room, swathed in silk and sweat. Ray stood there for a moment, knowing neither him or the woman would notice him, setting up a silencer spell so sound wouldn't travel past this room. He then crept closer and plunged his sword through them with a sort of disconnected levity. He began to laugh, finding the act of drilling his blade deeper and deeper through them as they struggled. He found it to be gratifying, watching them squirm and scream in horror and agony. He was aware, however, that he couldn't take too much time, and so he sent a pulse of magic through his blade that targeted their hearts. Their struggling slowed the first time, and the second they stopped altogether. He ripped his blade out and flicked it off a few times, the red blood splattering from the red blade.  
Out of curiosity, he took a look at the man's clothing, and though it was clear he had come here with a thick cloak to hide his identity, he couldn't stop himself from hiding his household, Garisia. He nodded, knowing which house that was exactly. He snorted and continued on his way.  
Like the first, this was systematic, and though he did toy a bit he was mostly only interested in getting the job done. With the second to last, he lit the room on fire knowing it would spread slowly at first, the bodies protecting the flame until it ate deeply into the wood of the bed. There were two more heartbeats that didn't seem interested in escaping whether they knew he was there or not. He had teleported the other bodies already, though he knew he wouldn't have to worry about the ones that were closest to the fire.  
Something gnawed in his mind as he went silently toward those last two heartbeats. He recalled that there was one woman that seemed to watch him from the moment he entered until the moment she died, but she didn't do anything or act against him, but he shook it off. He was nearly done.  
He entered the room and froze. This woman watched him as well, contemptuous, but she didn't move or speak. At her breast she held a baby, small and weak, seeming to struggle to suckle.  
He drew closer, almost hypnotized. He didn't expect to find anything of the sort. She stared him down like a lion, proud and hateful all at once.  
His blade seemed to drag as he told her, "There's a fire."

"I would expect as much, Fire Maker," she answered, glaring at him through narrowed eyes.  
"We have to go," he told her.  
"We?" She laughed, her voice sharp with derision. She had a thick accent that burned into him.  
"Now!" Ray countered.  
"No," she answered, turning away from him. "What are you going to do, Fire Maker? You've given up your interest in the lives of others and your own."

"No?" Ray echoed. "I'm sparing you!"  
"Spare someone more deserving," she answered bitterly.  
Ray growled and before he knew it his blade was cutting through her.

And the baby was wailing.

And he was running from the building, and the baby was in his arms, and the sky was black outside.  
And there was only one name that was in his mind. The name of a noble that had lost a son tonight. He stood outside the door of House Garisia now. The boy was still wailing, even swathed in his black overcoat. A note was left.  
 _Please take care of my son. His name is King._

And he knocked on the door three times, heavily, before melting into the night. He then vanished into the dark.

He went down to where the bodies were. The bodies of those that he had slain. He fired up the incinerator and one by one they were discarded. His bloodied sword dropped to the floor, his head too filled up to bother cleaning it, and he didn't want it to stick in its sheath.

And so he didn't hear it lift from the floor. They should have all been dead, but as he turned to retrieve another corpse, instead he was greeted by a living being. Not the mother, but the one that had watched him until the very moment he killed her, and he had been sure he had killed her.  
Only she was now standing there in front of him, a smirk on her face as she slithered closer, and in the dark, the only light the incinerator, he could see that she wasn't human at all in that mean red glow.

"So he has a heart after all. The boy might have thanked you at some point, but…I don't believe you'll see the day," she hissed, and he could see fangs glinting as she slithered closer. The blade screeched loudly as it dragged across the floor. She sprung at him, and her mouth closed around his neck, her other hand grabbing on to the golden collar that he had forgotten about and he grew slack. She tore away from his neck viciously, moved back for a moment, and his eyes widened in pain and fear. He clutched at the wound as the blood gushed freely.  
"Goodbye, wolf," she purred, raising the red scimitar. He desperately tried to block the blade with his needle-thin dagger, but the blade immediately shattered, allowing the scimitar to slash across his chest in a swathe of red. He cried out as she kicked him in the gut and he staggered back, into the incinerator.  
The last thing he could see was her changing, taking on his form, though it wasn't Ray he was looking at. It was Delarn.


	17. New Character

Delarn, as she knew her name was, stared in the incinerator and gave a sort of satisfied smile, turning away and looking at her hands. She flexed them and examined each finger. She then felt a wave of weighty sadness, panic, and fear. She felt a deep sense of regret and hatred for existing, and she couldn't help but laugh as she crumpled to the floor, her hands over her head. She felt absolutely delighted with this new body and its feast of despair that seemed so poorly managed and unresolved.

And she wondered why she had become a woman instead of a man when though she typically took the form of women, she would have still become a man taking Ray's shape, and she decided that it must have been because he wasn't meant to be a man at all. She could only guess at what it meant, whether he wasn't meant to be a man, or if he had changed to a man at some point for whatever reason. Even so, she didn't consider it a problem, though she knew that he likely was known well as a man in this household.

She considered how she would reveal to Ray's master that she was a woman now, though there was a singular idea that perhaps this master of his already knew.

Telago appeared and asked immediately, "What happened? Why did you have to use your emergency teleport?" He then stared at the woman standing there. He raised his eyebrows, knowing that she didn't give off the same magical output as Ray, but also she was undeniably like Ray in some way.

"Explain yourself," Telago said with a sort of cold tone, pointing his wand at her with a bored indifference even as the way he perceived her continued to lead toward her being Ray.

"I thought I shouldn't hide any longer," she answered, standing slowly, still jittery from the sheer weight of despair that plagued her current form. She felt a sort of uncertainty when she looked at Telago as if she didn't know whether to praise the man for his guidance or curse him for his indignation aimed at her existence. She turned and gave him a sort of smile.

"Ray doesn't smile like that. Prepare to die," he told her simply, and she looked scared for a moment before laughing.

"I know you have a dark sense of humor, but I didn't think you would say that to me now of all times. I really don't want you to think that I'm someone I'm not," she told him. "I thought after all these killings and such that I've earned my right to appear as I'm meant to, as my true self. I've earned my place, haven't I?" She tried not to laugh, the feeling of distrust and uncertainty that rose up, that sense that she didn't belong here or anywhere at all reverberating.

"I don't believe Lady Corosia will see it that way, Ray. I don't believe she'll be happy to see you that way considering her current state," he told her simply.

Delarn searched for what that could mean, but the new mind she inherited had little idea either, so she simply echoed her own confusion in her nod.

"So simple," he told her, rolling his eyes. "I suppose you should tell her yourself. It'll be easier that way rather than hiding down here among the dead. I would hate for her to find you down here rather than up above. No telling what she might decide to do."

Delarn nodded in agreement, finding that this was going smoother than she thought it would. She followed behind him and considered the things around her. With a form like this, she didn't feel as if she would starve for quite some time in the way of despair and so wasn't worried about whether or not she would be comfortable taking over this new person's life.

"We have a sort of issue," Telago told Lady Corivan as he approached her with Delarn behind him. "I couldn't be sure if you would consider it such as well, so I wanted your opinion before I killed her or not. This is supposedly Ray."

Lady Corivan appeared a bit surprised the moment she laid eyes on the newcomer. She was undeniably like Ray in the way she carried herself, in the way she looked, but she felt a bit unsettled as she drew closer. The moment she did, circling around her, Delarn knew what it was the wizard was referring to now by her scent, and certainly this form had a strong sense of smell.

"What do you think this is?" Lady Corivan asked her, sounding altogether bewildered as if she wasn't sure if she should be upset or not.

"I wanted to show you my true self," she told her. "I didn't want to lie to you any longer after all that I've done for you, and you for me. I think you deserve that much. I'm actually a woman, Lady Corivan, and I hope you can forgive me for lying to you for so long."

She appeared confused and unnerved initially, but then she realized something important that relieved her if Ray actually being a woman meant what she thought it meant, and so she simply smiled, finding this to be a boon rather than otherwise.

"Yes, Ray," she told her softly. "I understand quite a bit now why you acted the way you did when you first arrived here and I wouldn't hold that against you. You're my loyal guard regardless of whether or not you're a man."

"Indeed I am," she answered with a sort of smirk as Lady Corivan wrapped her arms around her. She felt a twinge of emotion, but it wasn't anything she was capable of feeling, and so she didn't let it affect her.

"This is fine," she said to her. "Just fine. I can almost think of you as a daughter this way. I rarely have other women working in my home, and so it will be interesting to have you now that I've known you so long prior and had you so close to me for all this time." She then lowered her voice and added, "Though I would hope that from time to time you may indulge me as a man again as well."

"Of course," she replied with a quiet laugh. "I would do anything you could possibly desire, my lady." The new Delarn felt thrilled. Once this form was used up, she was sure that Lady Corivan herself would have plenty to feed off. She could feel her broken soul, and it was tantalizing.

Lady Corivan smiled and pulled her along, bringing her to her room as she told her, "I want you to understand, Ray, that I'm glad you made this change. I've noticed how taxing this work has been for you, and I think it might be best to stop for a bit, just long enough for them to lose your trail and gain a false sense of security. I don't want to see you breaking too easily."

"It's nothing I can't handle," the imposter lied with a smile. It was easy to tell her that, though she could feel every delicious twinge of grief and self-loathing and just how close Ray had been to the end of his rope. Her smile only grew wider at that. She had done Ray a favor, killing him.

Lady Corivan kissed her cheek tenderly and pulled her closer, holding her gently. "Are you sure you're going to be alright? I need to know now."

"I'm perfectly fine. Those women deserved what they got, and it was the least I could do for my beloved master," she answered.

"I'm so glad you feel that way, Ray. I was a bit worried I was pushing you too hard. I must admit I was a bit concerned to see you like this, but I know it's best to be what you are rather than what you're not. You were running away from something, weren't you?" She asked her, and the imposter paused for a moment, looking down thoughtfully. This early she wouldn't remember what it was that Ray was trying to get away from, and so she had no way of relaying it.

"It's something I can't talk about," she said finally. "It's too hard to think about. I just know that I've never been happier before coming here."

Lady Corivan appeared particularly pleased at these words. She seemed happy just to see that Ray wasn't on the verge of death, and Delarn thought it was best not to go back to her old name when this woman seemed just as fine continuing to call her Ray. She could call her anything she wanted, really.

"Would you mind getting the brush from the drawer?" She asked her hesitantly, and Delarn nodded.

Literally reading her thoughts, she told her, "I would have brushed your hair before as well if you would have asked. I would have done anything you asked for. I crave affection." She gave her a lop-sided smile, a sort of teasing jab knowing that it was far too late for the emotions that Ray had left behind to be acknowledged by her former master.

"Perhaps I've manipulated you a bit too much, Ray," she told her, sounding almost tearful. "Perhaps I should have seen you as a friend first rather than simply a tool like I have. I think I'm starting to understand how I treated you and I want to make amends. I'm just so glad to see you acting and talking like this again."

The shadow of Delarn gave her a quiet laugh as she replied, "Not many people realize that until it's too late." She brushed her hair and hummed, "But you're such a kind and clever master that I knew that you didn't mean any of it. I knew that I just had to be patient."

"Really? You noticed that much?" She replied, quiet, thoughtful. "I never would have thought."

"It's nothing for you to worry about. Just let me brush your hair. You deserve it," she replied softly.

"I'll brush your hair after if you'd like," she told her gently, sounding almost shy. The stranger raised her eyebrows, never imagining that out of all things she would find it would be a turn like this. She felt particularly spiteful toward Ray and particularly glad she had killed him when she did.

A week passed, and they seemed to be getting along well, and the deeper the imposter got into Ray's subconscious, the more she found to eat and so she didn't doubt that her symbiosis with Lady Corivan would last for quite some time. She thought that it would be easy to turn things around for when it was more important to have to pain rather than pleasure.

"I never would have thought I'd have quite a close friend, Delarn," she told her one afternoon. Why don't you come with me and I'll show you the gift I got for you."

"Of course, my lady," she answered with a warm smile, following after her. She had been worried about not being able to change into a wolf, but she found it wasn't required much when she was around the manor.

She gave a sort of bitter smile as she led her to the basement, looking through the various drawers for what she was looking for to give her. "You brought something important to my attention when you told me that you understood how I felt about you all this time. I was worried that perhaps I was hiding my emotions too much from you."  
"There's no need to worry about that around me. You're an open book as far as I'm concerned," the image of Delarn told her.  
"That's why I made this difficult decision," she replied, finding a crossbow. "There's something almost embarrassing about knowing just how much I've given away. Have you ever considered how useful it could be to have an extra weapon at your disposal? One that you can fire from afar from time to time?"  
"It does sound tempting," she answered as Lady Corivan loaded the crossbow. "Are you going to have me return to my work for you? I would be glad to for you."  
"Yes," Lady Corivan replied. "I think it's time for another murder to take place."


	18. Red Ray Redemption

Delarn, or rather the figment of Delarn, hissed as the crossbow bolt sunk into her, glaring at Lady Corivan with narrowed eyes, teeth bared and hissing at her. The woman, her face grim and unfeeling, suddenly appeared startled. She had always been told that Lyalltines were specifically fragile, mortal, human, and yet this one had a bolt through their heart and was still alive. She gritted her teeth, reaching for another crossbow bolt, but her hands were now shaking.

And the being in front of her, the red-haired woman, tore the bolt out of her chest and the hole closed but no sooner had one hole closed had another one split open. The tip of a silver dagger protruded from her chest, and she struggled and squirmed before crumpling to the ground. Remaining was Ray, who stared at Lady Corivan, his face blank and thoughtful.

Lady Corivan smiled at him, but it was a grim sort of smile. "I missed you, Ray. It wasn't the same, and I couldn't believe that she was actually you."

He nodded, calmly looking down at the twitching corpse until it altogether blackened and curled up like a roach. "What gave it away?"

"Well, she replied, "There's something in your eyes that constantly changes, while her eyes always stayed the same."

He watched her for a moment or more accurately listened to how she fumbled with the crossbow bolt in her hand as if considering whether or not to load it, and then—to fire it? She then notably put it down and picked her way over to him gingerly, wrapping her arms around him, and he stood stiffly, feeling a bit confused.

"Where were you? What happened?" She murmured.

He thought for a moment, considering her question.

He hadn't expected any of the women to still be alive, and so he wasn't ready for her when she attacked him. He knew that the blade would break right through his knife as it was much thinner, but there wasn't anything else he could really do. And so he had tried to block with it, and as he thought it would, in those hectic seconds beforehand, it failed. It went through the knife and tore across his chest. It tore through his red shirt and slashed across the chainmail underneath, stunning him.

She had then shoved him backward and into the incinerator, but what she didn't know was that he was immune to fire. It was one of the most vital spells he had learned, and it was mostly mental. The other was an equally mental spell, but it was typically used to teleport him back here. It had another location, however, in case this one was compromised, and that was at the northernmost point in which the river cut through Ardougne, and he used it to take him there the moment he was in the depths of the incinerator.

The chainmail armor was red hot from the sheer heat, and his neck was still bleeding openly, bringing him closer and closer to bleeding out each second he wasted. His hand went to his neck with a snarl of defiance as he plunged himself into the river. He shrieked in agony as the water heated abruptly around him, nulling the chainmail's heat as the sudden change from hot to cold made some of the rings twisted and shatter. He hadn't yet been clear of the boiling water when he lifted the spell so his hand could cauterize the wound on his neck before he could bleed out, and his skin was blistering.

The last thing he remembered was shifting into his wolf form, trying to relieve some of the pain or perhaps afraid that if he died in human form that's how he would be found. And when he awoke he was lying beside a woodstove, a blanket draped over him. His fur was dry by now, but his skin was still tender and red beneath, and he whimpered weakly.

"I think he's awake now," he could hear someone say. It sounded like an elderly woman, and his ears perked curiously, lifting his head a bit. He gasped and laid it back now, a sharp pain going through him. A young man, about his age, went over and checked on him. He carefully checked his skin, and Ray gave a low growl. The young man nodded thoughtfully, pulling his hand back the moment he did and standing. He started mixing herbs beside him on the stove, and the scent of it made Ray sleepy and a bit dizzy.

The moment he was finished he leaned over and started carefully rubbing it into Ray's skin. He began to growl again, the sensation only being described as freezing, but soon after, as the iciness started to ease into a soothing chill on his burning skin, he began to appreciate it, sighing heavily as a numbness started to take over.

The young man then went back to mixing things, and Ray didn't seem as bothered as before, closing his eyes and sleeping quite willingly. Rather, he couldn't keep his eyes open for much longer. The next time he awoke an elderly woman was sitting beside him on her knees, brushing his fur lightly. This time he was more worried than upset, wondering how she might be sitting there like that at her age. The brush felt unusually cool, and he figured that the brush must have had the medicine on it as well.

She smiled pleasantly as she noticed his breathing change and realized he was awake. "Hello, dear," she said in a quiet, baby voice. "How are you feeling today? You've slept all day, haven't you? My son and I found you half-drowned in the river, and we couldn't leave you there, so you're here now until you start feeling better."

"Ma," the young man said to her, standing nearby and observing. "They're saying that the killer can take the form of a red wolf. Don't you think you should be careful with him?"

"They say a lot of things to get their ass out of the fire," she answered dismissively. "They just need someone to pin this all on, so they don't have to do their jobs."

"I don't know, ma," he answered, "but be careful anyway." Even so he handed her a bottle filled with thick, meaty milk mixed specifically for Ray.

She smiled, and replied, "I don't believe that a creature such as this could be capable of such heinous acts, and—and perhaps even if they are, I don't believe they can't be redeemed. I don't believe anyone can do anything that can't be redeemed in some way."

"Do you think dad could have been redeemed?" He asked while the old woman shook the bottle gently.

"Charles, the only barrier to redemption is death," she breathed heavily, "and maybe some people are too close to death in the living world to find it. But whether it's this wolf who's been killing those girls, or some misguided stranger, I don't believe it's too late for them."

"It's not too late to apologize, but it's too late to be forgiven," he answered solemnly.

"Perhaps," she replied softly. Ray, while he laid there, listened quietly and his heart ached with the weight of what they were saying, as it hadn't occurred to him that there was anything other than what he had done and that what he had done was revocable.

He was a bit surprised when the old woman brought the bottle to his mouth, and he twisted his muzzle away until she finally managed to slip it between his teeth. The moment he tasted the meat he started drinking from it eagerly and contently, not expecting to like it so much. The old woman seemed delighted as she fed him, and once it was gone, he was reluctant to relinquish it. She simply let him have it, her son having prepared another bottle by the time he was finished with the first one, and he let the bottle go to let her give him the second bottle once it was presented to him. After he was finished with that one his stomach was full, and he was drowsy, and he fell asleep again before long.

He awoke in the middle of the night with tears in his eyes, and he realized that he had been crying, though couldn't remember what he had dreamt about. He stood shakily, letting the thick blanket that was on him fall off. He was still a wolf, and so he took a few shaky steps out of the nest they had made for him and changed to human form. He tried to move as quietly as possible toward the door, but he immediately ran into a few things, such as the stove, a few pots and pans, and the table.

He bared his teeth at Charles when he walked down the stairs to check on him and see what the noise was. "What did you do to me?"

"Settle down, wolf," he replied casually. "The medicine we gave you is to numb the pain and will help you sleep, so you're probably a bit dizzy." He walked slowly toward the lantern on the table, his hands raised and plain to see to show he didn't have any weapons to use against him, and then slowly went to light it. "See? There's a terrible burn on your neck. There's also burns on your arms, and there's probably some under that shirt. We had a hell of a time pulling that chainmail off you. Do you remember that?"

Ray shook his head slowly, appearing almost sheepish. "You helped me?" He felt dumb after saying it aloud.

He nodded roughly, and Ray sat down gingerly, appearing more and more uneasy. Charles told him, "I don't know what kind of person you are, but I know my mom thinks your good so I'm going to ask that you don't do anything stupid. If you do anything to hurt her, I'm going to hurt you back. Got it?"

"What was she talking about? About people being redeemable?" Ray asked him quietly. "Do you really think I can be forgiven for what I've done."

"I don't know what you've done," Charles answered bluntly. "I don't think a lot of people should be redeemed, personally. I do think that my mom has said that about a lot of people, though, and she's been right a lot before. I don't know about you though. I know she likes you because you're a wolf. So what? You're a human as well."

"That what my dad used to say as well," Ray replied distantly.

"What?"

"My dad, when he was telling me old Lyalltines legends and things like that. He would say that we're both human and wolf and even a wolf with a pure heart can be corrupted by human ways. Maybe it's too late for me though. I've done a lot of terrible things," he sighed.

Charles folded his arms and clicked his tongue at Ray. "You're that killer everyone is pissed off about, aren't you? I'd say that's pretty bad, but so what? Do you regret it or something? What are you going to do once you're all patched up and out of here? Are you going to start-are you crying? What the fuck?"

"I think I need to change my ways," Ray said, and he was indeed crying, rocking back and forth in his chair lightly. "I need to do something."

"What are you going to do?" Charles snorted.

"Something," Ray retorted, staring at his hands.

After, Ray told him how things had been since he had come to Ardougne. He told him about Lady Corivan and the people he had killed, and he ended up falling asleep at the table.  
The next morning the old woman had woken him up with a bowl of porridge. She patted his back gently as if the fact that he was a man rather than a wolf was nothing special and nothing to be worried about.  
"Young man, my son told me all about you," the old woman told him gently while he was eating.  
"I told him not to tell anyone," he answered sulkily.  
"I think I have what you need," she told him, ignoring what he said as she went to pull something out of a drawer. His eyes widened as she passed a massive, silver knife over the table.  
"What's this for?" He asked, almost expecting her to tell him to stab himself through the heart with it.  
"I think there's an imposter in your home. You'll need this to kill it, and you'll need to have courage and faith in your heart to kill the darkness that has grown in your lover's heart," she said cryptically.  
He nodded slowly, taking the knife, and before noon he had left.

"Well," he said finally, "I met a dreamer and emerged from the fire alive."  
"I can't imagine what that means, Ray," Lady Corivan sighed, "But I suppose that doesn't matter. You're back and alive, and that's all that matters I suppose. Let's go back upstairs."  
He nodded, letting her lead him along.


	19. Putting it to Sleep

On the first night, Lady Corivan tried to invite Ray to her bed, but he had refused and had slept elsewhere, and from there the tension rose. The next morning, he was eating alone when she came to sit beside him. He didn't look at her, and she smiled at him, but there was something strained about it.  
"You've been acting differently ever since you've returned," she told him carefully.

"I feel different. I want to be different," he answered, and he found he couldn't look at her. Every time he did, he felt like he was going to cry. He didn't know how to talk to her anymore, and he was afraid she was trying to manipulate him.  
"In what way do you mean, Ray?" She asked, reaching for his arm but he pulled back. She stared at him, shocked, before letting her hand fall. Her lips pursed as he looked away.  
"I don't want to kill people anymore. I don't want to justify murder. I'm sick of it. I'm sick of all of it," he answered, trembling.  
"Are you sick of me?" She replied, and for a moment he was torn by what she was asking. He just knew that she sounded hurt and his heart ached.

"No. I don't know. No, I'm not, but we can't keep doing this Rosana. We can't keep killing people. Isn't there another way? We can change, can't we? We can be redeemed?" He asked her, turning to look at her, but the moment he did all he could see was her harsh expression, her sharp disappointment that cut into him worse than any slap she had given him.  
"Why don't you consider who you're talking to, Ray?" She asked.  
His eyes widened before they narrowed, and he hissed, "You're a human, aren't you, Rosana? You and I are humans, aren't we?"  
"Are you human, Ray?" She shot back. "Before you disappeared you didn't seem to have any problem with it. You seemed to enjoy killing more than anything else."  
Ray looked shocked for a moment before his eyes fell hard to his lap, his lip trembling.  
She knew that she had pushed a bit too hard; that she had to pull it back. Her tone was careful. "I know you're a good person, Ray, but I also know that what you've already been doing is the right thing to do. You just need a bit of guidance is all. I love—"  
The moment she touched his arm he snarled at her, his features twisted. He seized the closest thing he could reach and smashed it to the ground. The ceramic jug shattered, and water rushed out like translucent blood from the wreckage. She stood quickly, her eyes wide and lips trembling, and this felt like the first time he had ever seen her truly frightened.  
After a long, hard pause she murmured, "I'm sorry, Ray," altogether conflicted as she took a few hesitant steps back from him before pivoting and leaving the room.  
He groaned angrily, covering his face with his hands. Anger quickly turned to anxious grief and fear as indecision gnawed at him and he couldn't imagine there was anything he could possibly do about this.  
He stood quickly and went to the kitchen to ask Hayden for advice, but the moment he arrived he saw him packing up the equipment he personally owned. His expression was altogether grim, his mouth a tight frown. Even with this harsh expression, he seemed genuinely surprised when he looked up to see Ray. He let out a breath and then went back to packing up.  
"What are you doing?" Ray implored, not sure if the man was upset with him personally and not wanting to bother him if that was the case.  
Hayden measured Ray for a moment, his dull eyes studying him before grunting and nodding as if satisfied about something that he wasn't sure of a moment prior. "Well, Ray. To put it bluntly, I don't believe it's safe for me to stay here any longer. I can't blame a man that's been beaten down for behaving like a dog, but I also can't condone a household that's asking for the wrath of the rest of the city. If this place goes up in flames, I don't want to be here for it, and I hope you're not going to make a fuss over it."  
"I would never blame you for that," Ray replied, though his voice was choked as he considered what he said. "I understand what you mean. Why would you want to stay in a place like this anyway? We're all terrible people." His eyes fell to the floor before he realized it.  
"Ray," Hayden told him gruffly, "this isn't about you. You need to realize that. I have a wife and a couple of kids back at home, and I would hate for them to not have their dad to take care of them. The money was good, but not good enough to keep me away from them if I'm here risking my life, freedom and good name."

"Yes, I know," Ray replied dejectedly. "It doesn't mean I won't miss you once you've gone. Is there any chance that you will return?"

"We'll see about it, but it depends on how things go. I don't think she'll want me back once I've officially quit anyway, but I wouldn't mind seeing you again Ray. That's if you shape up and figure out what you really want out of life," he told him bluntly.  
At that moment a dart flew over Ray's shoulder, faster than he could have registered it, en route for Hayden's neck, intent on striking fatally. The chef, matter of factly, lifted his frying pan from the nearby stove and intercepted it in the same breath, and the metal struck the frying pan with a sharp ting. Ray felt both fear and anger rising up his spine as he spun quickly and hastily went out into the hall where the dart had come from, though there was no need. The man made no effort to hide.  
A growl built in the back of his throat as he recognized him as the assassin with the mask, the one that had nearly killed him when he first started to work for Lady Corivan. The man chuckled as he said, "I didn't think you would still be alive after all this, but I suppose I should be glad to see you again. I hope you had a chance to get a good look at the people in this city and now understand why I want them dead so badly."  
"I understand that you're here to hurt people I care about and you're infringing on the place I've been hired to defend," Ray answered, his tone low and cross.  
"I understand that you were the one that killed multiple lower class women as well as all those people that died in the fire you set in the theater. I understand that you're the same as me. Actually, you're worse than me. I have a purpose and a cause. You're merely acting as someone else has told you to act. You haven't even bothered to think for yourself," he mocked.  
"I have," Ray spat back, teeth showing, though he was trembling all over. He felt hot bile rising in his throat, and his heart was beating too quickly. The room felt as if it was spinning around him. He reached for his dragon scimitar, but his hands were shaking, the metal clattering in its scabbard as the assassin drew closer and closer with confident strides.  
"And I imagine you were shunned for it or else it was a foolish decision; the kind of decision that crushes weak men like you. The kind of decision that assures your condemnation," he mocked, spinning a knife over and over in his hand.  
Ray didn't feel like a hunter or a killer at this moment. He felt like a fraud in all things that he had done so far. He felt unworthy to be alive. The assassin stood in front of him, and he barely registered that this man was just a bit taller than him but thinner and wiry. He couldn't meet the cold eyes that pierced him through that nondescript mask.  
The sword tumbled from his hand as he reached with both hands to grip the assassin's wrist and stop the knife from plunging it into his face. The man laughed, knowing that half the battle was won as pushed the blade closer and closer to Ray's eye, his other hand casually sought another weapon though he was wholly unconcerned.

He should have realized that he should have been, knowing that the sword had never hit the floor. He grunted as he felt that red fang sink deeply into his stomach, twisted sharply back and forth. The knife fell to the floor with a loud clatter and Hayden shoved Ray out of the way with the ease of a father correcting a child a little too roughly.

As the assassin, still befuddled and in immense pain, reached down to remove the sword that was already sheathed far too deeply in his stomach, Chef Hayden wrapped a garrote wire around his neck and strangled him like an unlucky fowl caught in his kitchen, though this was arguably a merciful death compared to letting the stomach wound take him in its own time.  
"This is the sort thing that I can't stand to deal with while I'm working as a chef," Hayden told Ray pointedly after unceremoniously dropping the man to the floor, taking Ray's sword back and wiping it on his apron dispassionately before presenting it back to him hilt first. "I can't stand cleaning up other people's stations."  
Ray was still pale as he took the sword, his hands shaking as he returned it to his hip and Hayden returned to his kitchen.

He shakily pushed himself off the wall, back to his feet, and went to talk to Lady Corivan knowing that this conversation was long overdue.


	20. Understanding

Ray found Rosana in the garden, and he felt uneasy. At first, he thought it was because of what he was sure he had to say to her, though when he really thought about it, he wasn't sure what he was going to say at all. What really surprised him, when he realized it was happening, was that he found her crying. It wasn't a heavy or loud sort of crying, but the mere sight of it was undeniable once he recognized it for what it was. He hesitated to approach her and considered finding her at a different occasion, but at the same time, he couldn't deny that finding her in a space and time where she seemed to be as vulnerable as he was around her seemed opportune. It also felt wrong.

He started to turn to return to the house, but she stopped him. "Ray, I know you're there. Please come here. We need to talk."

He shuttered despite how he was the one coming here to talk to her when he had first arrived. He drew closer and opened his mouth to speak but couldn't think of anything to say, so he simply stood there until she spoke herself.

"Ray, you know how much I love you, don't you?" She asked him.

"Honestly, I don't," he answered, feeling something strange boil to the surface. It wasn't anger, and it wasn't grief, and it wasn't even bittersweet. He didn't know what to make of it. "Sometimes I wonder if you've ever cared for me. I at least know you care enough not to shoot me directly with a crossbow."  
She glanced at him, and he felt that quacking panic that came with disappointing her, but this felt worse. It felt like he didn't merely disappoint her, but hurt her, as she replied, "it's not that I haven't been trying to understand you ever since—"

She stopped, and her gaze fell slowly, but she didn't seem to be looking at her feet. He just knew that it didn't seem right to see her looking down after all this time spent with her in which she was the one in control. She continued, "it's just that maybe I took things a bit too far, and maybe I ruined something that I should have treasured from you."

"And what would that be?" He replied, his voice steady despite how he felt it should be shaking. "My innocence? My obedience? My sanity?" Something was satisfying about spitting out those words, putting a value on them when he had grown accustomed to not acknowledging the ways in which he had been changed at all.

"No," she replied, though she had looked almost worried at that last one, "no, I mean your trust in me. I should have never allowed—no, that would mean that I had any right to do what I did. I should have never risked losing your trust because I know how much it's worth."

"My trust?" He answered slowly, not quite understanding.

"I want you to love me, Ray. I want you to believe that I'm the best thing that ever happened to you. I know that's not the case at all. I know you'll never forgive me. I know you know the truth about our arrangement, and that's what hurts the most," she answered, taking sharp breaths as she tried to stop herself from crying again.

He felt alarmed. He felt utterly shaken and couldn't stop himself from moving closer to embrace her, reassure her that everything she had done was forgiven and that he stilled loved her.  
But as he drew closer, he knew that she spoke the truth. He didn't trust her. He didn't trust her even now that she seemed honestly hurt knowing that she was likely simply trying to get him to believe that she was the one that deserved an apology for his lack of love.

And he didn't lack any love for her at all, and that's what made it hurt the most.

"Ray, my dear," Lady Corivan told him. "I don't think it's the best idea for us to see each other for the next few weeks. I arranged for you to work on a company ship so that we can have some time apart and perhaps we can make amends when you return. If not, then I suppose we'll just have to let each other go. Will you be willing to do that?"  
He stared at her, dumbfounded, and felt both his stomach and heart twist. He wasn't sure if he understood the logic in this. He thought it would be best to fix things here and now or not at all, but at the same time, he was willing to understand her logic. He was willing to believe that with only a little time away from the city he would long for it again and they would come to understand each other. He considered that maybe she really would come to miss him, and not merely the version of him that could serve her best compared to the other.

"There are few things I fear more than the ocean," he began, his voice trembling, "but I also fear losing my place here. If you think it's what's best, truly, then perhaps I can offer to trust you enough to do this."

"I'll try not to disappoint you, Ray," she replied, glancing at him again. "I truly think this is what's best."  
She turned to him, and Ray was nodding slowly, but the moment she drew closer he stiffened. It was only for a moment. He relaxed the moment she leaned in and found himself leaning in as well. Her kiss was soft and gentle, and he thought his heart would stop the moment she leaned back and looked at him as if she saw him for the first time.  
She then turned away, and their eye contact was broken, and it felt like everything was over as she told him, "Let's go, Ray. There's no need to waste any more time." He stared after her for a moment, utterly frozen, but the moment she stopped to glance back at him that too was broken and she went to follow her. She said nothing and continued walking as he caught up with her, and he walked behind solemnly. It felt like a funeral march, and he couldn't imagine what he was walking into as she led him to the pier.

Standing there, as if waiting for them, was a ship captain wearing a neat uniform with bright brass buttons and possessing a golden tooth. The tooth aside, he looked neat and professional, and Ray stared awkwardly he held out his hand for Ray to shake. "You must be Ray. I've heard quite a bit about you from our Lady Corosia."  
He felt uneasy, and when the man realized that he wasn't going to shake his hand he let it drop, merely smiling at him as Ray asked, "What sorts of things?" He noticed that Corivan was holding her breath, and he wondered what she was worried about. He thought that perhaps she was worried that they wouldn't get along well and he awkwardly offered his hand instead, and it was now this captain's turn to stare at it for an awkwardly long moment.  
"Only good things," he answered with a grin after a few long heartbeats, suddenly taking his hand and pulling him into a hug. "You're a hard worker, aren't you? Real reliable."  
Ray was stunned and stiffened merely as it had been quite some time since someone was able to catch him so off guard that they would actually be able to embrace him. No one like this gentleman, anyway. "Yeah," he answered blankly.  
"You're going to be useful on my ship, lad," he laughed. "Real useful."  
"Are you going to be okay, Ray?" Lady Corivan asked him. "I know I can rely on you to get out of any sticky situations if the occasion should arise."  
"Of course," he replied, his voice sounding too far away to him. He felt a moment of trepidation, but he let it pass.  
"I hope it's so. I prepared you to do whatever you can to survive, didn't I?" She continued.  
"I can't deny that," he answered quietly.  
"Then you're going to be fine, Ray. Trust me on that much," she answered, patting his back. "Take care, Ray, and know I'll be thinking of you."  
Ray looked back to tell her goodbye as the man led him to his boat, but she was already gone. He felt cold ice in his stomach, but he knew it was because he was about to go back to sea. He knew that it was the one thing that he never wanted to do again, but he was allowing himself to be led along.

He was a bit surprised as he was led on the vessel and found it was smaller than he thought it would be. The captain sat down on one bench and motioned to the other. "Mind taking the other oar, lad?"  
Ray stared at it for a moment and the captain made an irritated grunt, starting to stand as he fully suspected that Ray had no idea how to do it. However, it was one of the things that he had learned how to do when he was on Beraliska's ship, and so before he could get too impatient, Ray sat down and nodded. "Are we ready to go?"  
"That's the spirit," he scoffed, still appearing a bit annoyed before counting them off, and before long they were out to sea.  
Ray was trembling before long, shaking and muttering softly to himself. The man glanced at him from time to time but didn't say anything. Finally, he spoke, telling him, "We're here. Just sit back." Ray let go of his oar and watched as the man moved to the front and began toying with a few mechanics. Before long he felt something seize the boat and felt like his heart was going to stop. He whimpered and leaned forward, his hands over his head and ears as he tried to block it out. He could hear and feel cranks dragging them up.

"You didn't think this was all there was to it, did you? This small thing?" The Captain said, but his accent had grown rangier, more like the easterners though Ray would know nothing of them at the time. He moved to walk along the bench he was sitting on, walking behind him and opening a slot in the side of the ship that was watertight when it was closed. It opened to reveal a decadent ship with rich wood and gilded rails. He grinned over his shoulder at Ray as he motioned for him to stand and come over.  
Ray numbly stood and walked closer, and the man immediately reached to seize his golden collar. Only it was no longer there around his neck, and he looked back as he had expected there to be one. He shrugged and tugged him closer by the collar of his shirt to the open air. He followed, more because he wanted to know what was happening than because he wanted to go aboard. He could feel his stomach clenching in dread. Being brought into the open air, he could see many men moving back and forth on deck, some of them wearing golden collars like his. They kept their eyes down, and the man squealed in amusement as he led him along.  
"Look there!" He said, pointing far abroad to a vague shape in the distance. "That's Ardougne!"  
Ray swallowed and replied, "will it always be within sight?"  
The man smirked at him and replied, "Ray, dearest Ray. Why do you think she's called Lady Corosia?"


	21. Sea You Later

Ray, as he stared at the dimming land in the distance, barely heard anything the captain was saying. He didn't notice how he removed his neat and tidy blue coat to reveal expensive silks and fine jewelry that far better matched the golden tooth than anything else could. He didn't pay attention as the man mocked him and reminded him how easy it was to pull him along by his nose.

"I can't imagine what she must have told you," he said with a smirk, rocking back and forth on his heels, "but one thing is for certain. You're never going to see this country ever again. If you're lucky, you might find yourself amongst your own kind for a change, but it'll be deep underground I reckon, tugging and breaking rocks for the rest of your life. Of course, I don't doubt there will be another market open for you as well. There's plenty of people that would love to keep a Lyalltine as a pet. That wouldn't be too different from what you were here, so I'm sure you'll be right dandy if someone buys you for that. Red fur goes well with most nobles, aye?"

"A pet," Ray replied blankly, still staring across the waters, his teeth grinding gently as he considered his predicament, but he was mostly out of body. The things this man was saying was far, far away as he tried to get ahold of himself.

"That's right," he answered, smirking. "I did say you had that nice hair when I first saw you, but you probably don't remember me, do you? I bet old Tom was the one who did it, made sure you didn't come back. I could have saved you a bit of time there. I could have taken you away before all this nasty business in Ardougne. I reckon you should be thanking me for taking you off her hands when I did."

"Thanking you?" He answered, still far away.

"That's right," he answered. "I was thinking of refusing when she first asked me. I remember it. She says to me, 'I don't want him here anymore. He's too dangerous. What kind of man is that? I can't have him around the house no more, or he might hurt someone'. That's what she said. She then said she was going to destroy you if I wouldn't take you. Said something about you butchering a boy and that she doesn't want that in her house."

"She encouraged me to kill people. She wanted me to do those sorts of things. I never would have-"

"That's just what she said," he answered with a sharp-toothed grin. "I told her myself that you weren't the sort of creature that she needed to be encouraging. I said I would take you then, dangerous or no, and that if she was going to keep you, she better be saving you for me. I know your kind, Ray. I know that you'll be fighting to the day you die. No skin off my nose if she don't see it."

"I'm not that kind of person," he answered quickly. "I did terrible things, but things I regret. I never would have-"

"Between you and me," he answered, "I know that, and she knows that, but you know that she doesn't want to clean up her mess. I saw you playing with those kidders. I know what kind of person you are, Ray. I know that you're a moth that got caught by the flame, and between you and me I was waiting for an opportunity to get at you. Not many tame wolfies. You'll sell for a high price."

Ray growled and lunged at him, trying to reach for his greasy neck or else his long, braided hair that had been tucked under his captain's hat, but he simply stepped back and grinned at him as he saw Ray hesitate, not willing to get too close to the rails.

"Smart boy, smart boy," the man teased. "You're all shaken up by the open sea. Nothing for the likes of me to worry about. Nowhere to go as long as you're here so why would you want to fight me over this? Count your chickens, boy. It's better off this way."

He snapped his fingers and a couple of hulking men, obviously hired just for this sort of thing, stepped forward and seized Ray's arms. Ray growled and tried to slash at them with his sword, but the other had his arm the moment the blade was out, and it wasn't long before the two, practically faceless lumps of flesh and muscle, had him held between them.

The man laughed and walked up to him, his tooth gleaming in the sun and reflecting off of Ray's chest as he reached to take the blade from his hand. He held tight to it at first, but after a moment his grip relaxed, and he let him take it. The slaver grinned as he looked it over and replied, "She didn't spare any expenses with this. These red blades are rare, my boy, if you didn't know. I can't imagine why she wouldn't want it, but then again it feels heavy. I can practically feel your sins crawling on it. I wouldn't doubt if it were a cursed blade now. There's only one place for it."

He turned and walked back towards the rails, and Ray watched in horror, teeth chattering as he shook his head. He didn't want to give the blade up.

"You'll be better off without it," he jeered, holding the blade over the side, listening to Ray chatter desperately. He felt a sense of amusement at the man, knowing that he couldn't even manage a real word through those chattering teeth, it all sounding like a mixture of old and new language. Realization dawned on him for a moment as he spun about and pointed the blade, yelling, "Cover his mouth! That bitch didn't tell me he was a spellcaster."

One of the lumps of flesh placed his meaty paw over Ray's maw, but the moment he did a burst of flame burst from his mouth, now opened wide. He loathed the taste of sweat and dust that he doubted the man had washed off since before this voyage, whenever that had been.

Ray was somewhat amazed by the way the fire that burst from his mouth didn't merely stop at the man's hand but continued onward to eat at the rich, oily wood that seemed to love the fire as much as he did. The man's hand itself melted away to bone much like that young woman that Ray had met what felt like ages ago when Telago had shown him the power a mage can hold.

He had little time to admire the grisly sight, however, as the moment the flame had melted away the man's arm he had pulled away and fell in agony, shrieking, sweat beading his lumpy face. Ray's instincts kicked in, and he spun around, using the other's man's grip on him as an anchor to allow him to swing up and kick him solidly in the face. The man staggered back, still keeping his hold on him and dragging him back with him.

The captain of the ship, the one the children called Stevo, frowned viciously and screamed at his crew who had stopped what they were doing and were merely watching now, "You idiots! The ship is burning!" He swept through the flames before they grew too hot and swept the blade around elegantly, seeking to cleave into Ray as the big man fell and Ray fell atop him. Still, the man did not relinquish his grip on Ray, and so he rolled to the side the moment he sensed the blade aimed at his back, and it chopped down to embed itself in the big lummox's wrist.

The lumpy creature howled in pain, and finally, that killer grip released Ray. Ray felt a moment of panic as the blade was tugged from the man's wrist like from a tree trunk, turning to strike at him. Blood, however, gushed up from that opened wound and blinded the man like a fountain. At the scent of blood, Ray lost all sense of presence and sprang at him, narrowly missing hitting that blade, changing to a wolf and sending him flying on silent paws. He carried the pirate captain back into the fire.

The man howled in terror, but Ray's only thought was to seize the blade from his hand, crushing fingers with bluntly sharp teeth and wrenching it free.

With each paw step, the ship seemed to ignite beneath him until he was upon the smaller boat that brought him here. He sheathed his sword and hastily tried to solve the riddle of how to get the boat afloat again, gears and pulleys grinding but doing nothing, the whole thing locked down.

He didn't have many fire runes with him, but he had enough, and so he placed his hands on the gears and used superheat. The spell protected his hands, but not so much the metal beneath his palms as the complicated mechanism melted away. The whole thing shrieked and groaned until the entire top of the enclosed vessel tore apart from the strain of holding it up without the inner workings, and the whole thing fell down, down, down to the waiting sea below.

He was stunned for a moment, but the twanging sound of crossbows going off reminded him of what was happening, metal bolts digging into the wood around him. He turned toward the ship, and with the last of his runes, he breathed another cone of fire that bit into the hull. It wasn't enough to obliterate the ship, but it was enough to finish it if left uncared for, and he doubted they would notice it until it was too late.

The flame was also enough to send him back toward Ardougne, the ship skipping over the waves the moment the fume of fire was exhaled.

Ray turned to face Ardougne and realized that it wasn't so far as he thought, knowing that his poor vision would put him close enough to at least get that far if he could see it. He stood and stared at the far shore with wide, hopeful eyes, but he could hear a low whistling overhead. Everything stood still for a moment before the cannonball hit, and the world was filled with bright red noise.

The loudest noise was the shards of wood that had exploded from the wreckage in front of him, shattering and sending splinters into him like shrapnel.


	22. Heated Embrace

Ray laid shivering and gasping at the bottom of the boat, barely afloat mentally and literally as cold seawater lapped over the edge of the ruined vessel. He was vaguely aware of cannonballs landing in the waters around him, but they may as well have been raindrops in comparison to the buzzing in his ear, and the rattling in his chest as blood ran over onto the wood. He closed his eyes as he thought that maybe this was fine. This wasn't dying of drowning, and this wasn't giving his form over to a demon.

 _"Delarn, my dear," a soft voice called to him. "Delarn, wake up my dear."_

 _"Da has already gone to the field," she answered. "Let me sleep in for once."_

 _"Get up," the voice answered, but it was more insistent, angrier. "You weren't born to die as the father of lies. I didn't die for a son that would waste blood."_

 _"Waste blood?" She replied._

 _"More importantly, you won't return to the silver forest if you die like this. You won't return no matter how you die. I didn't hold you in my arms and die with you to leave me alone here," she snarled. "Fix what you've done, Delarn."_

Ray stirred and paled as he saw how much blood he had shed. It was a thick blanket beneath him, he thought, but it wasn't as if came from a dead being like the tree the wood beneath it was made of. He didn't feel angry or upset about anything at the moment. He just wanted to return to land. He felt his heart beating heavily, and he thought that this was what it meant to be alive. A solid thrumming that he used as a thread to tie the magic in his blood to the wood beneath him. The wound in the boat closed and the vessel became more like a walnut. A tree sprung up from the blood, small and flimsy, and he dragged himself up from it.

He dragged his cloak off and absently tied it around the flimsy tree. He felt a sort of disappointment as he realized that the wind didn't seem to want to catch it. He simply stared ahead, worn out simply doing this much, but he thought that it had to be good enough. He sat down and stared at the far shore before taking the oars, still miraculously clinging to the vessel despite everything else that had abandoned it, and began rowing lightly. He didn't seem to be progressing much, but he was definitely moving, and this gave him enough heart to keep trying. The wind, as if pitying him, suddenly rose up and filled the cloak, sending him skittering toward land.

He wasn't aware that the ship had given up on him, assuming him dead or at least stunned enough to worry about later. Instead, they were more worried about the flames that threatened to engulf them. The fire had brought on the wind, and it pushed him gently toward Ardougne.

He hit the docks lightly, unceremoniously, and though there were people that stared at him in shock and horror, seeing the blood soaking his chest messily, people asking him questions and trying to point him toward the burning ship in the distance, he didn't hear any of them. He simply kept walking, and the people that were so desperate for answers from him decided that he didn't have them and left him be.

That's how he remembered it, anyway.

He awoke in the middle of the night and felt intensely cold, but he was still alive, and he considered that good enough as he sat up, feeling disoriented as he tried to figure out where he was.

"Rosana," he called as if he was lying beside her a moment ago and found her gone the next, but then things started to click, and he felt his head swelling as he sat up and scratched at his bloody chest, tugging at splinters and throwing them away contemptuously.

He changed to his wolf form, and he walked along the cobblestone streets, but he knew where he was going despite not knowing where he was coming from. He found that familiar manor and stared at it for a long time. He stood taller for a moment before turning to see a guard.

"I know you," he said, pointing at Ray "You're a killer. You killed my brother, and you've killed a lot of other people. You're a devil, and you're not getting off so easily. Is this your den?"

Ray merely stared at him, his golden eyes dull though as the man held up his lantern, his eyes reflected off his gaze. A low growl emanated from him, and he charged at the guard.

"Rot in hell, Izara," the man shrieked, pointing his crossbow point blank at Ray. Ray had been stopped dead at the mention of the name of his father and simply stared, and so it was only the last second that he moved to the side and the bolt, so close to going into his eye, slid along his side instead.

Ray changed back to his human form and with another two steps was upon the man, taking his hands in both of his, the crossbow and lantern smashing to the ground as Ray gave him a good shake. "I am not my father. I'm far worse than that noble wolf. I'm a sheep in wolf's clothing if anything."

The man's mouth was wide open in horror, and Ray dragged him closer before connecting his skull with his with a loud crack. The man went limp in his grip and fell like a ragdoll the moment Ray released him. He leaned down to make sure he was still alive before nodding in satisfaction and turning back to the estate.

He took a deep breath as if preparing to dive into deep, dark water in which he didn't intend to return before walking up that long, immaculate lawn. He didn't immediately want to see Rosana again. He just wanted to see the house again. He went between the rooms that he knew. He checked the kitchen first and found it vacant, any sign of a chef working here previously scrubbed away, nice and orderly, too orderly. He then went to his room, and for a moment he considered if it would be as simple as bedding down in those thick, soft blankets and waking up the next morning like nothing happened.

He knew he couldn't. There was too much left over for there to be nothing to wake up to. He moved the blankets and gathered his few remaining belongings. He walked back to the main room and sighed. He was done with this place and done with digging around for a scrap of happiness. He started for the door, but something stopped him in his tracks.

"Ray, I knew you would be back," Lady Corivan said sweetly.

He stopped and stared ahead for a long moment before turning and replying, "You tried to sell me into slavery."

"I wasn't selling you," she replied.

"You were giving me into slavery," he retorted, his teeth starting to chatter again.

"Why don't you have Telago take a look at that for you. It looks painful," she answered, acting as if she didn't hear him.

"If you wanted me to go I would have gone," he said, his eyes narrowed. "If you wanted me dead you should have just done it."

"Ray," she replied, as if he was being unreasonable, "I didn't want you to die. That's why I sent you away. I knew you weren't going to die. You're too strong for that. I just didn't expect you to come back so quickly."

Ray's jaw clenched, and he gave a low growl as she took a step closer. She didn't seem at all worried as he said, "Don't. Don't you dare start."

"Ray," she said, her tone like honey, "Where else will you go? You're better off dead if you're not with me. No one will ever love you like I do."

Tears spilled down Ray's face as she drew closer and closer, the air like static as she reached for him, humming softly and trying to settle him down. She realized her mistake as he snarled, his eyes flashing in defiance.

She took a step back from him as he took a sharp step forward, the motion charged with all the outrage he had held inside for all this time. He could see her lips moving, but no sound came out, one hand going to her extended stomach protectively, one last silent plea. It wasn't merely an apology but sheer acknowledgement of what she knew all along about him.

She had expected the blade, had drawn her own though she knew it was flimsy cover against the work of sheer artistry that she had bestowed to him. She swung at him expecting to see it shatter and knowing that she wouldn't be slowing him down.

She hadn't expected to feel the blade settle into thick fur, blood gushing darker than the red of the red shoulder it was met with. She had almost forgotten that her lover was a wolf. She had almost forgotten what those yellow eyes looked like when they were spilling over with passion. She smiled and laughed hoarsely as those fangs sunk short of her artery, careless paws pummeling and clinging to swollen stomach. A sweet few seconds passed before the air around them began to superheat and a ball of fire blossomed from the core they made like the ceiling of Infernus had fallen down upon their heads.

If she had only known that the only thing left here that was worth anything to him was his fire runes.

The guard, barely conscious, but stirring from the sensation of his skin blistering, watched with a sickened awe as the entire manor went up in a ball of flames. Even as the hellishly bright light began to dim, and he was certain that he would see nothing ever again, he was sure that no man or beast could have survived such a heat.

Ray took a few deep breaths as he appeared alongside the river, gripping his arm as he moved toward the old woman's house. It was the middle of the night, but he wasn't worried about being noticed as the fire lighting the city was far more prevalent than a shirtless figure wandering in the dark.

He noticed a bit of gold on the counter and realized that it was his former collar. He stared at it for a long moment before he fell into a deep sleep, having used more magic than he ever intended to that night.


	23. Trial of Tears

Delarn sat on the stand, staring ahead defiantly as the crowd screamed and jeered at her, crying out insults and mocking her. They threw everything they could think of, from paper to rocks, though it was never enough to actually hurt her. She was soaked through and sticky from the drinks that were spilled on her.

The judge was nonchalant about the abuse that was done to her, uncaring and unwilling to quell the crowd. It grew silent only after he said, "Telago, please take the stand and tell us of the crimes this woman has done."

"She has taken the knowledge I have given to her and sullied it. Every book and every spell she has ever read or learned has been used to destroy those around her. She is the epitome of a bad student. Worst of all is what she has done to our beloved Corosia," Telago said in his monotone, uncaring voice. "This woman is nothing more than a riotous flame, and all she revels in is destruction."

"Not a single man, woman or child will defend you here. What do you have to say?" The judge asked her plainly.

"From the day I was born I was scorned and misinformed. They took me to the altar to be reformed in the image of chaos, and I became the element of loss and where poor decisions cross. I burned down the world in a single day, and my heart is a flame, my only true name, and the grave for so many that came to face me in my living day. You should burn me, but he taught me and brought me up to never die by the fire or my fame, so it seems I'll have to hang. Is that fire enough for you?" She answered suavely, and the crowd awakened again with screams of anguish and anger.

"It seems we have to bring another woman to the stand to understand where you're coming from," the judge answered, and Telago teleported away to be replaced by Delarn's stepmother that she had left in Varrock. She stared smoothly at Delarn, and the judge said, "Is it not true that you slept in her bed?"

"I did, your honor," Delarn answered, staring at her hands. "I slept in her bed for a good eight years. I slept with her beside me for all those years, and we didn't even consider touching each other."

"It didn't cross your mind even once?" The judge countered, glaring down his nose at her.

"It did! But it was a mutual agreement! It was mutual, I swear! There was nothing wrong with what we have done!" She said, practically begging to be heard as the crowd hissed and booed her.

"But you left her," he answered. "You left her and though she is a woman that you shared a bed with, killing her didn't even cross your mind."

"It wasn't about what I did or didn't do with her," Delarn answered, dread filling her to the brim, "I didn't understand what I was doing, really."

"But you didn't kill her!" The judge shrieked, "even though you knew-"

"What did I know?" Delarn howled back. "What did I know about any of it? This was different. I loved Corivan. I loved her so much. I loved Rosana so much that it hurts."

"But you killed her," the Judge hissed in a low voice.

"Was I nothing to you, Delarn?" her stepmother murmured smoothly. "Did she give you something I didn't? Did I not make you feel important? Did I not bathe and clothe you for all those years? Does that somehow make me unworthy of murder?"

"This was different," Delarn whimpered, holding her head in her hands. "I didn't know what I was doing with you. I didn't know what I was doing."

"But you knew about Lady Corosia," Telago said, appearing alongside her. "You understood exactly what the consequences were when you were with her?"

Delarn shook her head and answered, "I wish it would have happened differently. I wish I could do it over. I want to believe it could have ended differently. She lied to me. She tricked me into thinking she loved me and she-"

"She thought you were too dangerous and she sent you away," Telago answered stonily, "And you returned and proved to her that you were."

"She was asking for it," Delarn answered.

"Based on how she was dressed? How she acted?" Her stepmother mocked, grinning like a cat that had just managed to get its claws into a bird.

"It's not as simple as that," Delarn answered. "We were both wrong. We both should have made amends. I was trying so hard, and she gave up on me. I would have gone away if she had asked me to. Why didn't she just ask me to?"

"I warned you," Telago growled, his voice next to her ear, his voice rumbling like stones falling. "I warned you and taught you, and you used my lessons to destroy her instead of leaving like I asked."

"You handed me the knowledge," Delarn answered.

"It isn't the teacher's fault for what the pupil should do. Did I neglect to teach you philosophy? Is the information that I withheld what got you here?" Telago barked.

"We all make mistakes," Delarn gasped.

"Babies don't make mistakes," a voice at the door answered. Delarn could feel a thick powder filling her lungs, and she coughed and choked like the room was filling with smoke. She coughed into her hands and saw it was white.

She looked up and could see Lady Corivan, wearing her most elegant clothes, holding something that shrieked and wailed.

Ray woke up screaming and crying and coughing and looking around the room frantically. He felt even more panicked as he realized that there were thick ropes around him and he found he couldn't move. The young man, Charles, appeared in the room and frowned.

"You're finally awake, and now you're screaming loud enough to wake the dead. There's a pub practically next door. Shut up before someone finds you here, trying to figure out what's going on in here," he said, and as he spoke, he walked over and began pushing Ray back down so he would stop pulling at the ropes. "You've been asleep for three days now, but we had to tie you down because you wouldn't stop thrashing all the time. Didn't I say to shut up?"

Ray, as he started to recognize his surroundings, began to settle down but he was still shaking. It took him a moment to form a coherent sentence. "Three days?"

"Three days," Charles answered, not sure if he should let him go yet or not. "Ma had me drag you upstairs. Does your dumb head hurt? You probably hit it on every stair."

"No, I don't know," he replied, blinking. He felt dazed. "What happened?"

"I don't fricken know," he answered dejectedly. "Some noble's house exploded, and you know what they're saying? They're saying some dumbass red wolf did it. Sound familiar? And now ma is having us hide you like its any of her business."

"They're looking for me?" He answered blankly.

"Did a red wolf blow up a huge house?" Charles snapped back. "Are you going to be all crazy?"

"What?"

"I said-"

"No, I'm not going to act crazy," Ray answered, and Charles finally stopped holding him down, but he wasn't about to take the ropes off yet.

"But yeah, they've been looking for you after you apparently came out of the ocean from a burning ship, went and beat the hell out of some guard, and then apparently destroyed an entire noble's house and no one has seen her since," he answered.

"Yeah, that sounds right," he answered dejectedly.

"So what?" He asked.

"So what?" He replied.

"So what are you going to do. Don't mimic me. Answer it. So what?" He spat.

"I don't know. That could be asking anything of me," he answered.

"Wrong answer," Charles snipped. "You're going to get your ass out of town and out of our house the moment ma gets home and sees you're not dead."

"I hope it's not in that order," he answered. "I already used too much magic once this week."

Charles narrowed his eyes at Ray. "I hope they catch you for that."

They then heard the door open, and Charles went down to help his mom with the groceries. It took a while, but eventually, she came up the stairs. She watched him for a moment, as if uncertain what to make of him. He stared at the ceiling, too embarrassed to face her.

"I hope you understand that you can't come back here," she told him gently.

"You would be better off turning me in so you can be sure I don't come back," he replied.

"Is that what you want?" She replied, no hint of judgment in her voice. "I just want you to be aware that it's something you can do if you feel it's the right thing to do. If you don't want to be caught or killed, you'll have to leave Ardougne simply for the fact that they know your face and they'll find you no matter what you do. I don't want you to think you're not welcome here, but I want you to know it's safer if you don't come back."

He whimpered and nodded, replying, "I don't want to be locked up. I don't want to die. I want to go."

She nodded and cut the ropes free. He looked at her with wide eyes as he sat up and rubbed feeling back into his arms. "I still don't understand why you're helping me. I don't understand why you wouldn't want me condemned when you know all that I've done."

"I don't know anything more than what's on the surface, and even so that doesn't matter. Do you regret what you've done here? Do you want to become someone better?" She asked gently, helping him up. He swayed on his feet, appearing small and lost despite being taller than her.

"I do. So much it hurts," he answered softly, "though there's nothing I can-"

"There's never nothing that you can do," she told him firmly. "You have to believe there can be change if it's something you want. You can change, young man."

"My name is Delarn," he told her, his voice soft.

"Then go with courage, Delarn," she told him firmly, squeezing his shoulder. He felt tears brimming in his eyes, but he nodded.

He walked down the stairs, and Charles was there at his side, holding a cloak out for him and donning one himself. "If you really want to get out of this town you're going to have to be disguised. There's no way anyone is going to not notice that bright red hair of yours."

He nodded, putting it on and started to pull the hood up over his head as well, but the old woman called to him and said, "Please wait, young man. I want to see you one last time."

He nodded and stood still, looking up the stairs at her. She seemed to be struggling to say something, trying to figure out how to word it, though he couldn't see her well enough to know that. Right as he was about to pull the hood up again and depart, she finally spoke.

"You remind me of a friend of mine that I used to know. You look just like someone I used to drink with, him and his wife. Would you happen to know Izara? Would you know what happened to him?" She asked as if seizing onto something that she had thought was long lost to her.

"I do," he replied as he put the hood over his head. "He's my father, and I was there to watch him die. It was when I was very little, probably about ten years ago."

She was silent for a long moment, silent until her son followed Ray out of the house and silent until after the door was closed. She stared at the door for a long moment before saying, "Thank you."


	24. Epilogue

Yulsia heard a knock on her door and appeared frightened. Her husband had many enemies, and though he had rid himself of many of them before he started working in Ardougne, there were still a few that she didn't doubt escaped him despite his best efforts. She got the crossbow that she always kept by their bedside and crept to the door. Their son and daughter, Tovro and Callec slept peacefully as they knew nothing of their father's more outrageous lines of work. They just knew that their dad was a powerful man and that their house in Catherby was safe from those that might encroach upon it. Everyone in Catherby loved their family.

When the door opened, the man stood there and smiled broadly at her, arms wide open. "Yulsia, my darling, it's good to see you again. I'm glad to see that you still remember how to greet a man."

"Oh Tom," she replied, smiling at him as she laid the crossbow aside, but kept it within reach in case he wasn't who he seemed to be. "I didn't think you were due home so soon. Otherwise, I would have prepared something nice for you. In the middle of the night as well?"

"There was a little mishap at work," he answered with a sigh. "I've resigned from my job as a chef. It was just too dangerous. I think I might have to go back to being a pirate. It's far more predictable than all that was."

"Surely you're joking," she replied with a laugh.

"Oh no, it was sheer hell," he replied, grinning, "though I did meet someone that I doubt I'll ever forget. I wouldn't mind seeing him again, though I doubt I will. He's a young man by the name of Ray."

"Who knows, maybe you will," she replied, kissing him tenderly. "I'm just glad to see you hope for the time being. Perhaps you could do something simpler, like open a restaurant."  
"Maybe I should," he agreed, smiling at her.

***  
Solene's father sat in his chair reading his paper with a serene smile on his face as Solene's mother convulsed and twitched on the floor, screaming for mercy, scratching and tearing at the carpet beneath her. The man smiled broadly as he turned the paper a bit and showed her, telling her, "Did you see this, hun? The price of coal is going down. I think I might invest."  
She wailed in pain and terror as he turned the page. He laughed and replied, "You're right, dear. I don't think it's a good idea either. Not really. There are a lot of bad ideas that shouldn't have been allowed to take root, but I guess we wouldn't have an economy if people didn't take those sorts of risks from time to time."  
She continued to cry out, and he turned his smile on her, big and wide, and went to the next room. As he returned, he kneeled down and held her head firmly and squeezed her neck until she stopped squirming so much. After he dropped a couple of pills in her mouth she finally laid still. He gently pushed on her stomach, grinning all along until a baby slid out. It had rich brown hair that would grey with so many decades of waiting for a father that wouldn't return. He held her in his arms and considered what the best way to prepare such a tender morsel would be.  
The baby began to wail suddenly, and it startled him, distracted him a moment before a knife shot out and carved into his chest. Solene's mother, and Caninelle's, smiled warmly as she kissed him on the lips, whispering as she licked up the blood that trailed between them in a scarlet, if fleeting, bridge, "The baby is going to need something nutritious to eat." Solene's father could only watch as his own heart was torn from his chest and the child in his arms became a wolf.

Ray stood in the middle of the zoo, his senses overwhelmed. He could hear monkeys and birds screeching. He could feel snakes coiling around his feet and bears screaming about how he was a terrible lover. He covered his ears and prayed softly to a god that wasn't Saradomin while standing there in Saradominist robes. His heart beat quickly in his chest, and he prayed like he was standing there at the foot of a kind man's chair that told him that life was more like rolling with the punches as they came rather than dwelling on the punches that already fell. Even though it was much easier to remember sharp nails tearing away scanty clothing and digging into exposed flesh.

"Hey! Snap out of it, idiot!" Charles barked, wrapping his hand around his wrist and shaking it a bit. "We're almost out of Ardougne, alright? Can you at least focus for that long."  
It was easier now that he was being led along. The sounds of the animals fell into the background, and he was able to focus on the man that was pulling him. He wondered if it was always this simple living in a linear world rather than one that switched from moment to moment while he was desperately trying to focus on the present.

"Listen, alright," Charles told him, still not sure if Ray was paying attention to him or not. "I don't want you to get eaten like a weird bird by the ogres, so you better be listening. There's a town just south of here called Yanille. Even if they get word of you down there, they got worse problems and bigger weirdos because of that wizard tower they have there. If you can blend in there, then you don't have any problems. Just stay there until things cool off, okay, and then you can go anywhere you want."  
"Okay," Ray answered. "I think I can do that," he answered as they finally made it through the zoo and his wolf senses no longer felt overwhelmed. He also wanted to show that he was good at listening. "If I go to Yanille I'll be safe."  
"That's what I just said, didn't I?" Charles answered snippily. "Go on then! Get out of here!"  
Ray nodded, getting out of there, just like he said.

***  
Telago stared at the skeleton with a bored expression on his face, but he was intrigued, tracing each ashy bone with the intimacy of a lover.

"My, my, Corosia. You clean up well after such a terrible falling out, and it was such a nasty break up as well," he said. She was laid out on one of the tables where she took great interest in prodding and torturing the local prostitutes and whores to death. This was the place where she insisted on teaching Ray pleasure through pain as well. It was ironic that she could feel none of it now.  
She wasn't the thing that he took most pride in, however, as he traced bone after bone.  
In the center was a glowing egg, of sorts, that contained something quite beautiful for what it was. It was like burning amber, holding a fish. A fish shaped like a wolf. A swimming wolf.

"You made something beautiful out of this after all, didn't you, my lady?" He clucked. "That's all you really wanted, isn't it? Something beautiful made from a monster?"  
He shook his head. There were few with the intellect that he possessed and fewer that understood when he was joking. "The dead are such terrible company, but they'll have to do."  
He began writing an inky letter drawing his finger over the ashy bones every so often to get enough residue to form letters and then words.

"My protégé will be coming to study in Yanille. Please welcome him," Telago read back, and nodded, pleased. He glanced at the swimming wolf again with a sort of sense of pride. He never thought he would be a godfather, let alone proud to be one. This would be one of his greatest achievements.


End file.
